_
ISS
m
The World Movie Problem
Do not miss reading our interview with Will Hays
under The Forum in this issue of
Mr. Hays: “It is for
the people that I
am going to work”
FILMPLAY: We gladly
tender the use of our
pages to the furtherance
of Mr. Hays’ ambition
Wherein he tells what he hopes to accomplish in the moving picture industry.
The Forum henceforth will be a regular feature in Filmplay which should ren-
der constructive service to the silent drama by reflecting the views of the people
In This Number May Also Be Found
Charming Mae Murray
All women are interested in hats.
And they surely will not go far
wrong if Miss Murray’s suggestions
are followed.
Constance Binney
A close-up analysis of this popular
star by her sister, Faire Binney,
writing under the department, “Stars
by Those Who Know Them Best.”
Madge Kennedy — Film
Feminist
Gladys Hall’s third article of the
series, “The Serious Side of the Wom-
en of the Screen,” tells about Miss
Kennedy’s wonderful development.
The Japanese Carpet
of Bagdad
The fourth article in Filmplay’s
series, “Around the World With the
Movies,” gives the kind of pictures
the Japanese are interested in.
How Polish Is Pola?
Glendon Allvine tells about Miss Negri’s
rise from an obscure ribbon clerk in a
department store in Berlin.
Studio to Dead Storage Vault
Virginia Thatcher Morris presents the
history of marketing films, from “infancy
to the grave.”
Why Photoplays Are Rejected
Jerome Lachenbruch gives some timely
“Dos” and “Don’ts” to amateur scenario
writers.
The Poetry of Doris Kenyon
Dorothea B. Herzog writes entertainingly
about this popular star and her verse.
Bill Duncan’s Early Training
His vivid recital of incidents in his child-
hood will make interesting reading for
both young and old. He’s also “some”
artist.
Edith Johnson
The original kodak girl. Harold Howe
tells how she just naturally drifted into
motion pictures.
The Norrises
A team of literary giants that have turned
their attention to the screen.
Out of the West
Newsy notes about favorite actors and
actresses, forthcoming productions, etc.
A Cartoon of Marion Davies by Mark Tobey
USUAL COLORED INSERT OF POPULAR FILM PLAYERS
V ■
- '- .V-
June, 1922
1
The Editors Page
the theatres being booked
T HE tremendous number of motion picture
theatres in the United States and their com
venient locations in almost every neighbor-
hood makes it difficult to realize that one of the
greatest problems now facing picture producers is
the finding of houses in which to show their
products. The war has been the biggest factor
in causing the shortage of theatres, particularly in
Europe, for the suspension of necessary building
during the days of strife has resulted in an
embargo being placed on the erection of new
theatres, they being classed as “luxuries.”
This is especially true in England, where thea-
tres are so scarce that the pictures which we are
seeing today in this country will not be shown
for at least a year
solid with old releases until that time.
France, too, has been so busy rebuilding her
devastated territory that she has paid little altem
lion to the building of motion picture theatres.
The interest in pictures, however, has continued to
increase, with the result that people clamor to
get into the remodeled shops, which take the place
of our splendid new theatres. At least 2,000 new
theatres could be built in France with the assur-
ance 1 hat diey would be well patronized.
This great problem of the producers, as well
as a discussion of the great part American-made
pictures are playing in the development of the
motion picture industry throughout the world,
serves as the theme of the exceedingly interesting
article, The Reconstruction Problem of the Mov-
ies , by 0. R. Geyer, in this issue of Filmplvy.
Mr. Geyer has made an exhaustive study of movie
conditions throughout the world, and he writes
with splendid authority on a question of vital
importance to the future development of motion
pictures.
Among the greatest admirers of American-made
films are the Japanese. American movie stars
find that their correspondence from Japanese
“fans” often exceeds that which comes to them
from their fellow citizens. This month’s Film-
play publishes an article by Philip Kerby, The
Japanese Carpel of Bagdad , which tells of pic-
tures and picture audiences in Japan. It is one
of Filmplay’s series, Around the World With the
Movies , and is the first article dealing with the
picture situation in the East. Next month Janet
Flanner, who has returned to Europe* writes of
motion pictures in Rome in an entertaining article
entitled Thumbs Down on the Roman Movies.
At present Miss Flanner is in Vienna, and plans
in die near future to go to Berlin, so that Film-
play’s readers may soon expect interesting reports
of the picture situation in those cities. Another
early article will deal with Swedish pictures and
the splendid theatres of Stockholm, which com-
pare favorably with the finest of the new picture
palaces in America.
W tHEN Pola Negri suddenly flashed across the
screen of this country in the title role of
Passion , critics everywhere acclaimed her as one
of the greatest of screen actresses. Immediately
the public became curious about her, and many
were the tales which were circulated. She was
said to be a German by some and Polish by
others. Now at last we have the true story. Pola
Negri is a Polish patriot who, although she is
being starred in German-made films, is devoting
die greater part of her earnings to the cause of
Polish freedom. Read Glendon All vine’s story
about her in this issue of Filmplay. It will set-
tle for once and all the questions which may have
arisen in your mind concerning her.
I T IS not often that .both sides of a married
couple are successful in the same profession.
Charles G. and Kathleen Norris are exceptions to
the general rule. Both of them have attained
places in the first rank of American novelists, and
both of them are transplanting their work from
the printed page to the silver screen. What they
think of pictures, how ‘they work, how they have
helped each other along die road to success is
l old in the article, Introducing the Norrises , in
die current issue of Filmplay. Arthur Denison,
who writes of them, has not given them the usual
set type of interview in which to tell their story,
but has caught them after ■ft dinner at the home
of a mutual friend, and they have* talked to him
freely and without formality.
•
W E HAVE often told you that Filmplay is the
different magazine of the screen. We have
written of the people who have told us how unusual
they consider Filmplay and its policy of accuracy
and truth. This month we have added another
interested reader in the person of Will Hays,
former Postmaster-General, and now the execu-
tive head of the Motion Picture Producers and
Distributors of America. In a recent issue Film-
play published an open letter to Mr. Hays calling
his attention to the many responsibilities and
opportunities which lay before him in his posi-
tion. The letter interested him so much that he
called Filmplay to his office to discuss the letLer
and to answer it as well as he could so soon after
undertaking his new job. What he had to say,
what he hopes to do for pictures, aiid his promise
to the people of America, will be found in this
issue on the new Forum page. This page also
carries letters from readers telling what they
would do if they had Mr. Hays’ job: The Forum
will be open to Filmplay’s readers for the dis-
cussion of all questions pertaining to pictures,
their progress and development, at all times.
2
Filmplay
When are these coming ? Use the phone!
Clfihen are
these coining r
Use the phone!
BETTY COM PS ON
“The GreenTemptation"
See beautiful Betty Compson as the
dance-idol of Paris ! This picture is the
real thiag in.; Parisian night life.
Front H“The Noose ** by Constance
Lindsay Skinner. Scenario by Monte M.
Katterjohn and Julia Crawford Ivers.
Directed by William D. Taylor.
‘VheWomcm , „
WhoWalked (Horn
with
Dorothy Dalton
A GEORGE MELFORD PRODUCTION
Dashing Dorothy Dalton as the mad-
cap sportswoman of English social life !
Lovers galore, and then — • the terrible
scandal, the trial, and “the woman who
walked alone!”
From the story, “The Cat That Walk-
ed Alone,” by John Colton. Scenario
by Will M. Ritchey.
Tom Meighan play-
TTHOM AS ing Daddy to five
* children orphaned by
MFIHHANa bandit’s bullet!
’ + From the novel by Ed-
i/l ward Peplc. Scenario by
^ Olga Printzlau. Directed
JfliZ by Alfred E. Green.
Bachelor Daddy”
WALLACE
REID
“OWM
_ ttfo
Ccmtummt
Wallace Reid in a
cracker - jack auto-
mobile picture!
Gasoline, perfume,
pretty faces, a mile
every minute — that’s
the mixture in
this great
show !
By Byron Morgan. Directed by Philip
E. Rosen.
Take the little trouble
to telephone the theatre
If you can get a good show simply by
asking a question, ask —
“Is it a Paramount Picture today?”
Your theatre manager will appreciate
your interest. He is always puzzling how
to please most of the people most of the
time.
When he finds that you like to know
Where* a photoplay comes from, as well as
its title and star, he will take care to an-
nounce it in future.
Paramount has finally taken the best
film entertainment out of the stunt class
and put it into the class of the world’s
greatest entertainment.
The stars, the directors, the plots, the
sumptuous presentations, make every Para-
mount Picture an artistic event and a per-
sonal thrill.
It is a real loss to let many days go by
without seeing a Paramount Picture.
So — make a bargain with us — if we con-
tinue to make the better pictures, as we
shall — Paramount, you verify the dates
of their showing at your theatre!
Quit paying your good money for any-
thing short of the best !
FAMOUS PLAYERS LASKY CORP
[fill
ADOLPH ZUKOR, President
•NEW YORK CITY”
c When are ^
these coining ? <2$
Use the phone !
“Is Matrimony" „
a Failure ?
hr/th
T Roy Barnes In a certain vil-
Lila Lee lage a group of
T nic Wi'knn young couples sud-
1,01s wiison denly find that their
Walter fliers . marriages are il-
legal. There they
are, sweet-hearting without regular li-
cense! Enough laughs in this tangle
to make a mummy laugh !
From Leo Ditrichstein’s adaptation
of the play by Oscar Blumenthal and
Gustav Kadelburg. Directed by James
Cruze. Scenario by Walter Woods.
William de Mille’s
PRODUCTION
Bought id For
Agnes Ayres and Jack Holt
How do things work out when a
young millionaire marries his pretty
stenographer? This fascinating drama,
which has thrilled thousands of audi-
ences on the stage, shows you.
From the play by George Broadhurst.
Scenario by Clara Beranger.
GEORGE FITZMAURJCE’S
4t PRODUCTION
the Man From Home ”
An Italian Prince with
makes passionate love JAMES
to a pretty American KIRKWOOD
girl, in an attempt to
win her millions. “The Man from
Home” arrives, and then the lightning
begins to fork and play!
From the play by Booth Tarkington
and Harry Leon Wilson. Scenario by
Ouida Bcrgere.
£ Paramount Q*ictur&s
If it’s a Paramount Picture it’s the best show in town
l[lll!lll!lilllll[IIIIIIlllB
CONSTR UCriVE — CO M PR EEENSIVE—INSTR UC'TIFE — C LEAN
Business Office
325-327 N. Capitol Ave.
INDIANAPOLIS, INDIANA
m
Editorial Office
15 East 40th Street
NEW YORK CITY
A MAGAZINE OF IMPORTANCE FOR EVERY AMERICAN HOME
Vol. I — No. 12 JUNE, 192a
Publisher s Chat
When Filmplay made its first ap-
pearance with the July number 1921,
the publishers had some very clearly
defined plans by which to steer its
course.
These were not of a negative char-
acter, but positive, constructive and
wholesome — to make
“A Magazine of Im-
portance for Every
American Home”
The developments of the year confirm
and emphasize the need of Filmplay,
and its field of usefulness has expanded
many fold.
The great Film Industry has been
embarrassed by the escapades of two
or three of its more prominent people,
and its many thousand people, no bet-
ter nor worse than those in any other
industry, compelled to suffer chagrin,
and have the finger of scorn pointed at
them. But it is always darkest just
before dawn, and the series of “blue
Mondays,” accompanied by the throes of
depression, are disappearing. The In-
dustry is coming of age, and leaving its
days of adolescence — preparing to meet
the time of responsibility and oppor-
tunity with a judgment tempered by
experience.
As Filmplay completes its first year,
we have gone a long ways — we have
developed ten departments or features,
all of which are of peculiar interest.
There has never appeared in any num- 1
ber a suggestive illustration nor article
containing any reference unfit for any
American home.
We have tabooed press agent stories,
and sought articles of interest and im-
portance to be written in accord with
our policies. We are just now begin- y
ning to approach the ideals for which
we have so earnestly striven. This
number is the best and July will be
better. Many interesting and instruc-
tive features will appear in the issues
of 1922, and we urge our readers to be
sure not to miss a number.
We invite all those who are interested
in motion pictures — and who is not.? —
to make Filmplay their spokesman
through “The Forum” — our new de-
partment. We assure you that those
having to do with the making of the
pictures will get your message, and you
have the opportunity of deteranining
the standard. Write ycur opinions in
a concise manner and send 'them to the
EDITOR. Motion pictures arc inti-
mately connected with the home life,
and their important as well as possi-
bilities depend upon the public’s wishes ; -
therefore, as a part of this, public, you
should do your part in the development
of . your own entertainment of the
future.
In This Number
Cover — Constance Binney — By E. Kleis Page
Cartoon — Marion Davies — By Mark Tobey 4
Colored Portrait Section 25-32
Mabel Ballin Dorothy Phillips
Hoot Gibson Mae Murray and Robert W. Frazer
Marie Prevost Mae Murray and Creighton Hale
Bebe Daniels Sessue Hayakawa
Editorial 5
My Sister % Constance — By Faire Binney 6-7
The Reconstruction Problem of the Movies — By 0 . R. Geyer. .8-10
How They Look Before Breakfast (Illustrations) 11
The Japanese Carpet of Bagdad — By Philip Kerby . . .12-13
The Poetry of Doris Kenyon — By Dorothea B. Herzog 14-15
Rambling Impressions of California — By Alice Calhoun 16
Seven Long Rays For Charlie (Illustrations) 17
From Studio to Dead Storage Vault —
By Virginia Thatcher Morris 18-19
What’s Wrong With Your Photoplay Story? —
By Jerome Lachenbruch .20-21
Bill Duncan’s Early Training for the Screen. 22-23
How Polish Is Pola ? — By Glendon Allvine 24
A Most Familiar Face — By Harold Howe 33
Introducing the Norrises — By Arthur Denison. . . . 34-35
The Serious Side of the Women of the Screen — By Gladys Hall 36
Rex Ingram Films a Famous Romance (Illustrations) 37
What a Lucky Chap I Am — By Edward J. Burns 38
“The Masquerader” (Illustrations) 39
Views About Previews — By Arthur Denison 40-42
Mae Murray’s Fashion Page 43
The Forum 44-45
Out of the West — By Dennis McCauley 46-47
East Coast Activities — By Leo Leary 48
Reelaffs 49
Ask Dad — He Knows 50
HAROLD HARVEY, Editor
Published Monthly by THE MAGAZINE CORPORATION, Indianapolis, Ind., U. S. A. .
William J. Dobyns, President; Geo. M. Cornelius, Treasurer
Yearly Subscriptions for the United States, Porto Rico, Hawaii and the Philippines,
$3.00 ; Canada, $3.50 ; Foreign, $4.00. Entered as second-class matter July 21, 1921, at
the postoffice at Indianapolis, Indiana, under the act of March 3, 1879.
Copyright 1922, by THE MAGAZINE CORPORATION, Indianapolis, Ind.
Eastern Advertising Representatives, Wilson & Brinsley, 220 W. 42nd St., New York City
Western Advertising Representatives, Cole & Freer, Peoples Gas Building, Chicago
25c the copy
Fit m pin y
Marion Davies in “Beauty s Worth 99
The first of a series of cartoons by Mark Tobey
June, 1922
5
Pity the Poor Author
A YEAR or so ago we chanced to be rather
well acquainted with an internationally
‘ known dramatist who had come to
Hollywood from his native England to write
original stories for the screen. He had made
the three-thousand-mile journey in the best of
faith. He was being paid a sum of money
comfortably close to one hundred thousand
dollars for a year’s work.
When he reached that Western suburb,
which has become the commercial Mecca of
the world of writers, the dramatist was wined
and dined prodigally during his first few
days. That is Hollywood’s hospitable custom
toward newly-arrived persons of eminence.
Then he settled down to work.
He wrote one story, then another, and a
third. They were put into continuity and
lavishly produced. Something alleging to be
a picturization of the dramatist’s original
synopsis resulted. But if it be true that it
is a wise child who knows its own father, it
was doubly true in this instance, that it was a
wise father who knew his own child.
After the second doubtful offspring had
been foisted upon our friend as his legitimate
own, he turned to us and inquired rather
sadly if we at all understood the purpose of
his employer. He had traveled across an
ocean and a continent, and for no other rea-
son, so far as he could see, than to be humili-
ated. It would have been so much less ex-
pensive and so much pleasanter to have been
disillusioned in London. But he had to come
all the way to Hollywood to learn that, al-
though he was paid a round price for his
ideas, he would never salute his brain chil-
dren when, in picture dress, they made their
unrecognizable way across the screen.
This experience is typical, and, for our
part, we have never been able to understand
the psychology of it.
It is past our comprehension why a pro-
ducer will pay a whopping price for a good
short story or novel from an able writer and
then consign the adaptation of that story to
that apotheosis of mediocrity: the average
scenario department.
The only explanation we can find is that
the earnest souls who make up those depart-
ments, being chary of their jobs, have built
up an impressive bogey which they call
Screen Technique. They, and they alone, are
the chosen few who understand it. No story
can hope to make the journey successfully
from the fiction page to the screen unless it
first pass through the tents of their own little
sideshow, where, with a great deal of hocus-
pocus, they whisper their certain charm over
it. Judging from the pictures we have seen,
we almost believe that, instead of whispering
a charm, they mutter a dark curse. Certainly
the result of their black magic is more often
devastating than elevating.
It is idle to deny that a definite technical
training is necessary before one can write
directly for the screen. But it is equally idle
to assert that the stultifying limitations which
the average scenario writer puts upon the pos-
sibilities of the screen represent anything but
the appalling limitations of that scenario writ-
er’s intelligence.
• Sometimes a story breaks away from these
manufactured restrictions and accomplishes
something which the scenario department says
can’t be done — because they don’t know how
to do it. It is then that you have a ToVable
David or a Cabinet oj D odor Caliban*
As we say, we do not understand why the
powers that be pursue this haphazard and
illogical way of expecting mediocrity to im-
prove on demonstrated ability.
Their whole procedure in this connection is
very like the gentleman who sent his ambas-
sadors abroad to the rarest mills of Scotland
and England seeking the finest of woolens.
And when these were procured and brought
home to him, he put the bolt of priceless
cloth under his arm and walked up three
flights to save fifteen dollars, and gave it to
the cheapest and dowdiest of tailors to be
made into a suit. A. D.
6
F ilm play
r HIS article on Con-
stance Binney by her
sister Faire, who is also well
known in pictures , is one of
the most charming contribu-
tions to Filmplay’s series ,
66 Screen Stars, by Those
Who Know Them Best ”
Quite frankly does Faire dis-
cuss her sister, describing
her chief characteristics as
well as her career and the
intimate side of their home
life . Read it and you will
find the very human side of
one of your screen favorites
laid bare before you.
—Editor.
Sister Constance
'The Charming Young Star Described by Her Sister
Faire Binney
W HEN I stall to talk about my sister Constance it
seems as if I can never stop. She is the most ador-
able sister in the world, of course, but you’d expect
me lo say that, and I’m sure that everyone who has seen her on
the stage or screen will agree with me. What you want to
know and what I want lo tell you is about the Constance Bin-
ney I know— the Constance Binney who lives in the same
house with me — not I lie one who stars in pictures.
First of all, Constance is a little older than I am. When
we were small, of course, the difference in our ages was more
noticeable than it is today, and we both had our own friends.
Then, too, I was rather delicate as a child and 1 had lo live
in the country with my aunt, while Constance stayed in the
city with mother. Constance always says I am “the country
mouse,” while she is the city girl. I love outdoor things, rid-
ing and hiking and sports, while she goes in for l he things
the city off ers — art, music and everything that makes for cul-
ture. But despite the fact that we are different, now that
we’ve grown up, we’re inseparable pals. Most people think
we look alike, and over the telephone our voices are said lo
be exactly alike. Naturally, we have great fun taking each
other’s messages.
As might be supposed, since Connie has a decided bent for
the artistic, she isn’t so very practical. At least she says she
isn’t, and she often wonders what she’d do if she married and
was suddenly burdened with the cares of a home. On the
other hand, I am practical — it is second nature for me lo
be so. Constance doesn’t care a snap of her fingers for
money and she is forever lending it to people, and then, when
I hey forget lo pay her back, : lie is loo embarrassed lo ask
for it. Just the other day l determined that she shouldn’t
let people lake advantage of her that way. Of course, she
insisted that sometimes I am too frank and outspoken, but
it’s my way.
This is what happened: A friend of ours, a charming girl
who is really only forgetful, owed Constance seventeen dol-
lars. I told Constance to ask her for the money and she
hemmed and hawed and said she’d ill ink about it. Of course
she didn’t ask. Then I look the matter in my own hands. I
pulled out a dollar bill and gave it lo my sister. “Here’s
that dollar I borrowed from you last week,” I announced,
keeping my eye on our friend. She didn’t make a move.
“Anyone else here owe you anything?” I asked. Still not a
move. I repeated the question. Eventually the girl under-
stood. “Why, I owe you seventeen dollars, don’t I?” she
murmured weakly, and Constance, quite embarrassed, begged
her not to mind. You see I'm practical and Constance isn’t,
but she got her seventeen dollars.
Both of us love to dance. It seems lo me we’ve always
danced. One of my first memories is of dancing under llie
instruction of a famous teacher whom a friend of oars occa-
sionally had in to teach her own children. Constance always
says that she was dancing when I was still in swaddling
clothes. Perhaps she was. I can’t remember quite that far
back. At any rate we danced all our childhood and Lo ex-
press ourselves through dancing became second nature.
Jane , 19 22
i
Sometimes she appeared at charity performances and she told
me that the thrill resulting from the applause of the audience
at that time was greater than any she has since felt on pro-
fessional first nights.
Mother always was a great supporter of our work and still
is the greatest aid in the furthering of our ambitions. I'll
tell you a secret. Constance and I believe that, through our
work, mother is expressing a desire to do creative work which
she has been forced to suppress. Once — and only once — did
she break down her wall of reserve. She painted a picture.
It was a life-size oil painting of a dog. As a child I thought
it was the finest picture I had ever seen. So did Constance. And
today I still think it is good work. Dear Mother! I know
it is from her that we have
inherited what talent we
have and it is for her that we
really work. I know, too,
that although she has only
expressed herself directly
through that picture of the
dog* that whenever Con-
stance or I do anything
worth while she feels as if
she had accomplished it her-
self.
Constance never went out
for a career. The career
came to her. As I said, we
have always danced, and it
was her dancing that gave
my sister her first engage-
ment. But I’m anticipating.
While I was up in the
country growing strong Con-
stance was sent to a very fine
boarding school up in Con-
necticut. It was one of
those proper places where
the girls are watched with
an eagle eye and are never
permitted to stir without a
chaperone. When boys come
to call they are received in
a series of glass parlors like
a row of the booths in which
phonograph records are
demonstrated — one couple to
a showcase — and a chaperone
at the end with her eye
sweeping down the whole
line. In spite of the proper
atmosphere, dancing was tol-
erated, and naturally dancing was the one tiling on the cur-
riculum which interested Constance most. That interest
brought her the bitterest moment of her life.
Each year the girls of the school put on an elaborate May
dance under the apple trees which surrounded the school
buildings. Although at the time of which I speak Constance
was a new girl, her proficiency in dancing led to her being
chosen to lead the dance, which was to be performed for the
entertainment of many adoring papas and mammas and broth-
ers and sisters. On the day of the dress rehearsal — which
was practically a performance, as there were many visitors at
the school — Constance was more proud and excited than she
had ever been in her life. She knew that she could dance
better than any girl in the school and that she was sure to
make a hit.
The hour for the rehearsal came. The girls concealed
themselves behind a hedge, waiting for their cue to dance out
on the green lawn before the teachers and the guests. The
music sounded and the dance began. Scarcely had Constance
appeared on the scene when the principal — she who usually
sat at the end of the string of glass parlors and kept tabs on
the boy callers — rushed forward crying, “Slop! Stop!” The
dancers piled up against one another as they came to a sud-
den halt. The principal singled out my sister. “Constance,”
she reprimanded, “you are kicking too high — much too high.
This is a school for refined young ladies. What would your
dear parents think?”
Constance really didn’t know what her dear parents would
think. She only knew that she was dancing as best she knew
how. She felt very much hurt — little girl that she was — that
her work had not been appreciated, but she agreed to curb
her enthusiasm if possible and to shorten the length of her
kicks. The rehearsal began
again. Out onto the lawn
rushed the lady principal,
more furious than ever.
From the group of girls she
dragged poor Constance arid
sent her to her room. Tin*
May dance went on next dav
without its star performer.
My poor little sister’s heart
was broken. That she was
a failure she was convinced,
and for a long time she did
not dance at all.
Fortunately, however, in
her professional work she
has never had a real failure.
Winthrop Ames, owner of
the Little Theatre, and pro-
ducer of only the finest
things in the theatre, knew
Constance as a .child and
when she was old enough for
the stage came to her and
asked her to understudy
Margot Kelly in Pierrot the
Prodigal , a French panto-
mime he was staging. Inci-
dentally, he was going to
feature her in Lady Blue-
beard , another charming
pantomime, but the war in-
tervened and he went abroad.
His work was aiding the
suffering people of France,
and Constance begged hard
lo go with his organization,
but he refused lo take her
because of her youth.
About this time the musical comedy Oh Lady , Lady went
into rehearsal and the man who was directing it sent for
Constance to play the tiny part of a maid. In speaking of
it she always asks, “And what is more lowly than a musical
comedy maid?” All through rehearsals Constance tried to
tell the director of the musical numbers what a splendid
dancer she was and finally he told her lo bring down her
ballet shoes and give him a chance to judge for himself.
Every day she brought the shoes, but not until the night, of
the dress rehearsal did she gel a chance lo put them on.
There was a lull in the proceedings and some one suggested
that she make good her boast that she could dance. Corral-
ling a pianist, she started in. Sitting in the dark theatre was
the director. When she finished her first number he shouted
out for another. As she left ihe stage a buzz went around
among the men interested in the production. “Shall we give
her one or two dances?” they asked. Eventually they
decided that she should have two numbers, and when the play
opened in New York those two f Continued on page 52)
Photograph by Edward Thayer Monroe
l ain Uinney. the practical sister
8
F ilm play
The Reconstruction Problem of the Movies
A STUDY OF WORLD-WIDE CONDITIONS WHICH
CONFRONT MOTION PICTURE PRODUCERS
By O. R. Geyer
B EING a motion picture magnate is not without its trou-
bles, despite the prosperity which has fallen to the lot
of the industry in recent years. Having outgrown its
swaddling clothes too rapidly, the world’s fifth greatest in-
dustry finds itself in a position somewhat analogous to that
of the doughty Richard, whose princely bid for a mount con-
tinues to stand as a record. This time, however, the much
sought after mount is the motion picture theatre, or rather,
thousands of them. The fabulous sums which have changed
hands in the last five years in this and other countries Have
not been sufficient to satiate the demand for high-class thea-
tres, and the return to more normal business conditions
throughout the world is eagerly awaited as the signal for an
active building campaign, which will help relieve a world-
wide shortage of high-class theatres.
For years the exhibitor has cultivated the motion picture
“fan” without stinting his resources. He has provided
luxurious settings in which to project the highest form of
motion picture art obtainable. He has spent large sums for
orchestras in order that the mood of his patrons may be
brought into harmony with his program. Million-dollar
palaces for the proper presentation of high-grade motion pic-
tures have arisen in all of the large cities of the country,
resulting in a highly pampered and super-critical patron.
Today, he must have his screen entertainment served up to
him with all the luxuries and garnishments the most resource-
ful showmen can find in the entertainment mart.
Several years ago, when the Rivolis, Rialtos, Strands and
Capitols were practically unknown save in the largest cen-
ters of population, the motion picture “fan” was content to
have his entertainment presented within the walls of any
rectangular structure — the town hall serving in this capacity
in the smaller communities. One taste of luxury and the
average “fan” became a most exacting customer. To meet
this demand there sprang up in this country an active theatre
building boom, which left scores of fine film palaces scat-
tered about the country before the touch of deflation had
served to dampen the boom.
Film enthusiasts in the Unit-
ed States were more fortunate
in this respect than their broth-
ers and sisters in other coun-
tries. In Europe, the war
quickly put a damper upon all
building operations in 1914,
and when peace came late in
1918 the countries of Western
Europe were faced with the
difficult problem of finding
shelter for thousands of citizens
and homes for overcrowded
industries. All luxury build-
ing — into which class theatres
naturally fell — was banned un-
til the housing shortage could
be remedied. This applied es-
pecially to France, England,
Belgium, Italy and other na-
tions directly affected by the
war. In the neutral countries
several conditions, including
the shortage of labor, the high cost of building materials,
served to hamper theatre building.
Despite three years of peace there has been no general
lifting of the embargo on theatre construction, and as a re-
sult Europe is from six to ten years behind the times insofar
as its motion picture theatres are concerned. Millions of
motion picture “fans” were made during the war and in the
months that followed, and in prosperous days they have
overtaxed the limited seating capacity of the theatres in all
countries.
More normal conditions in building costs are certain to
encourage the building of hundreds of handsome new theatres
as soon as building restrictions are eliminated. In Great
Britain the removal of the embargo is expected within the
next year, and a gradual improvement in this respect is
expected in other countries. The European motion picture
“fan,” save in a few large cities, has been denied the lux-
urious presentation of films in vogue in this country, and is
certain to give instant approval to any concerted effort
to provide better physical equipment for his screen enter-
tainment.
To the 15,000,000 Americans who daily visit the motion
picture theatre must be added another 15,000,000 “fans” in
the other countries of the world. These 30,000,000 indi-
viduals, in normal times, must be squeezed into approxi-
mately 25,000 motion picture houses; more than half of
which are located in the United States. And the surface of
potential motion picture patrons has scarcely been scratched,
for there are hundreds of millions of people in Europe, Asia
and Africa who have yet to enjoy the opportunity of seeing
a motion picture show.
It is estimated by competent sources that the motion pic-
ture industry will have urgent need of double the number of
theatres now screening photoplays, once economic conditions
are stabilized and improved. The United States, with its
15,000 theatres, is fairly well supplied, as it stands ten years
ahead of the remainder of the world in the development of
its theatre building program.
But it can use and will build
within the next few years hun-
dreds of large houses for the
presentation of film entertain-
ment in the luxurious manner
now common in the larger cit-
ies of the country. Competent
authorities estimate that ap-
proximately 20,000 theatres,
the majority of them of the
high-class order now prevail-
ing in the cities, will be re-
quired to cater to the millions
of potential fans who are being
recruited for the industry from
year to year.
The reaction of this shortage
of theatres is making itself felt
in other departments of the mo-
tion picture industry. While
the war had a repressive in-
fluence upon the development
of the physical side of the in-
Mr. Geyer Writes:
“Having outgrown its swaddling clothes too rapidly , the
world's fifth greatest industry finds itself in a position
somewhat analogous to that of the doughty Richard ,
whose princely bid for a mount continues to stand as
a record. This time , however, the much sought after
mount is the motion picture theatre , or rather, thou-
sands of them. The fabulous sums which have changed
hands in the last five years in this and other countries
have not been sufficient to satiate the demand for high-
class theatres, and the return to more normal business
conditions throughout the ivorld is eagerly awaited as
the signal for an active building campaign which will
relieve a world-wide shortage of theatres. To the
15,000,000 Americans who daily visit the motion
picture theatre must be added another 15,000,000
fans in other countries of the world. These 30,000,000
individuals, in normal times, must be squeezed into
approximately 25,000 motion picture houses, more
than half of which are in the United States. It is
estimated that the motion picture industry will have
urgent need of double the present number of theatres,
once economic conditions are stabilized and improved .”
June, 1922
9
dustry, as represented by its theatres, it did, on the other
hand, serve to speed up the development of the artistic side
of the industry. The last four years have witnessed a great
improvement in the quality of motion pictures, and this im-
provement has aided in developing a keener and livelier in-
terest in motion picture entertainment on the part of the
masses of people scattered about the world. Now the prob-
lem of the industry is to bring about a proper balance of
the two important departments of the industry — production
and exhibition. Manifestly, it will be impossible for the
former to come to a standstill to permit the latter to con-
tinue its development. Someone must be found to bring
about a readjustment without disturbing the progress of
either department, and this is a matter that is engaging the
best minds in the industry.
The shortage of motion picture theatres is most keenly felt
in Europe, where, outside of America, the exhibition of mo-
lion pictures has made its greatest progress. Great Britain
stands in urgent need of some four or five thousand high-
class theatres, each capable of seating 1,500 and more per-
sons. It has today approximately 2,800 theatres, or approxi-
mately one theatre for each 15,000 population. In America
the ratio is one theatre for each 7,000 persons.
P LANS have been completed or projected for nearly 1,000
new high-class motion picture theatres in the British Isles,
but as yet there has been little chance in the strict govern-
ment embargo on building operations, save those applying
to homes and business structures. It is hoped that the em-
bargo will be removed by next year, as there has been no
theatre building in Great Britain since early in 1914. As a
result of this condition the houses in operation during and
after the war enjoyed unprecedented prosperity. They were
unable to care for the millions demanding admission, and
long queues were daily features before all first-class houses.
Aside from denying screen entertainment to many thousands,
this state of affairs made its influence felt along other lines.
Great Britain is a market for films produced in all of the
other great manufacturing centers of the world, as well as in
its own numerous studios. As a result, exhibitors have been
surfeited with films — four times as many as they have actual
need of, it is estimated. Almost every high-grade film, as
well as hundreds of films that do not enjoy this classifica-
tion, produced in America, France, Italy and Scandinavia,
are offered for sale in Great Britain, and Germany may soon
enter the British market. To show even a small measure of
these films, it was necessary for the British exhibitor to book
his product far in advance.
T HE average British motion picture house today is booked
up solidly from twelve to eighteen months in advance. A
picture released in America in June, 1922, cannot reasonably
be shown before June, 1923, or even later. Some of the
greatest photoplay sensations released in America in recent
months will not be seen by the British public until the spring
and summer of 1923. Some few exhibitors booked their
programs two years in advance by making a selection from
the vast run of film offered them from various sources. Con-
tracts compel them to stick to these playing dates, and the
insertion of another picture in this schedule at an early date
could not be done without shelving one of the pictures con-
tracted for at the exhibitor’s expense.
In the wave of prosperity that followed the war the de-
mand for theatres was so keen that prices, like those in all
other industries, became greatly inflated. Houses built dur-
ing the days when labor and materials were much cheaper
brought fabulous sums, and for a time it was impossible to
buy a better-class theatre without paying an exorbitant sum.
As an example, a small British theatre which cost thirty thou-
sand pounds, or approximately $150,000, before the war, was
sold during the boom days for more than half a million dol-
lars. Theatres which cost from $250,000 to S500.000 before
the war could not be purchased for much less than a mil-
lion dollars, so keen was the competition for houses in the
larger centers of population.
The British film industry for the most part is controlled
by men who have made their fortunes in other lines. Cotton
manufacturers, steel makers, coal barons, and other business
men of wealth bought theatres as a profitable business hobby,
and began storing up vast profits to be divided with the gov-
ernment tax collector. One little theatre in a suburban dis-
trict of London has been supporting nine brothers, all of
whom have other prosperous business interests. Their days
they devote to their respective callings and their evenings,
with their families, are given over to the management of the
theatre, which is a veritable gold mine despite its hydra-
headed management. And there are many other middle-aged
business men who found the picture theatres they purchased
as a luxury even better money-makers than their own busi-
ness interests.
As regards theatres, France is even more behind the times
than Great Britain, and for the same reasons — the war and
building embargoes. The larger cities are far behind the
average American city of medium size as regards high-
class theatres. Many cities of 25,000 and more are prac-
tically without motion picture entertainment, so great is the
shortage of theatres. The war caught France just at the
time she was beginning to develop the business of properly
presenting the motion pictures she has been producing for
so many years. Despite the fact that she was a pioneer in
the production of motion pictures, France has not made much
progress in the building of the high-class theatres one finds
so often in Great Britain and America. At least 2,000 or
3,000 new high-grade motion pictures could be set down in
France and find ready use as soon as more normal condi-
tions are restored.
B ECAUSE of the great pressure of other reconstruction
problems, France has not had much time to devote to the
building of theatres for the entertainment of its people, and it
will be many years before the exhibition department of the in-
dustry catches up with the production end of the business. This
state of affairs exisits in Belgium and for the same reason,
while Holland, Switzerland, Spain and Portugal find them-
selves in much the same position. These neutral countries
were so near the war zone they were first to feel the repres-
sive reaction brought about by the fighting in Belgium and
France. Building materials have been almost unobtainable
and labor has been a difficult problem.
The number of theatres in Spain today is far below the
number required for potential business demands in normal
times. Outside of Madrid, Barcelona, and a few other com-
mercial centers, Spain is almost barren of first-class theatres.
There has been considerable agitation for early relief from
this dearth of theatres, but outside of two or three splendid
houses now under construction, or planned for an early start,
little or nothing has been accomplished. Many millions of
Spaniards have yet to become acquainted with the modern
motion picture, which leaves a tremendous potential business
awaiting development in that country. These same condi-
tions apply to Spain’s next-door neighbor, Portugal, but on
a much smaller scale. When prosperity returns, these two
countries should join the scramble for more theatres.
Italy is another of the great producing centers of the world
which felt the direct hand of the war. Although its films
enjoyed great domestic prestige and a prosperous foreign
market before the war, the country occupies about the same
position as France as regards the presentation and exhibition
of films. Several hundred new theatres will be urgently re-
quired once Italy succeeds in solving its many reconstruction
problems. In this country, too, is a large number of po-
tential motion picture fans who some day will have their
10
F ilm p lay
first taste of screen entertainment, and succumb to its attrac-
tiveness as other millions have done under similar circum-
stances.
While all of Germany was engrossed with the problems
of war, its motion picture industry continued to make some
progress as regards production. The screen was used largely
for propaganda purposes and the manufacturers were per-
mitted to continue in business in order that films might be
produced for domestic and neutral propaganda purposes.
After the war German interests scampered about frantically
in search of buildings capable of being converted into mo-
tion picture theatres. Berlin alone is said to have impro-
vised more than 600 new theatres, so great was the demand
for this form of amusement. Frankfort was stricken with
the motion picture fever and it is said that practically every
street in the city had at least one cinema before the boom
collapsed.
G ERMANY gives promise of being the most serious com-
petitor of (he United Stales for the world film markets.
Despite the present economic crisis, German studios are turn-
ing out several hundred films a year. The bulk of this produc-
tion is filmed with an eye for the world markets. Much atten-
tion is being given to the elimination of purely local subjects,
and the stories now most in demand, such as Deception , Pas-
sion, Dr. Cali gar i , and The Golem , are those possessing an
international appeal. Because of present trade restrictions
many German films are being produced in the Scandinavian
countries, or are being shipped out to world markets as Scan-
dinavian product. London film manufacturers to some ex-
tent profess to be alarmed over the proposed German on-
slaught on the world motion picture markets and are giving
much attention to speeding up and improving their own
productions.
The German ban on the importation of films has not been
removed, and not until this restriction is lightened will it be
possible for outside films to be sold in larger quantities for
the German market. Several mammoth structures used in
war work are being converted into modern studios by German
concerns, -who are eager to enter into the scramble for, the
world him trade. Hundreds of films produced during the
war are being dumped in the South American and other film
markets at prices which make it difficult for the American
producer to compete with them.
G ERMANY has approximately 3,500 film theatres — many
of which compare most favorably with the better-class
houses in America. The seats are roomier and more attention
is given to the comfort and convenience of the patrons in the
high-class theatres than is sometimes customary. in the United
States. The aisles are roomy, the lobbies are large and com-
modious, and high-grade orchestras are employed to dispense
picture music. In the loges four armchairs occupy about
the same space an average American house gyves to ten seats.
The theatres in the larger cities have an average maximum
seating capacity of 2,400.
in anticipation of the early complete removal of the em-
bargo on the importation of films, leading German concerns
have been buying heavily in the American and European film
markets. One concern is said to have purchased seventy-five
American films in one deal in the hope of being permitted
to lake them into Germany shortly. Once the embargo is
removed American films are expected to make great inroads
upon the domestic German market.
Conditions in Eastern Europe and the Southeast arc
chaotic insofar as the film industry is concerned. The
invasion of the films, just fairly well begun in the days be-
fore the war, was stopped completely and suddenly in August,
1914, with the result that this section of the world is many
years behind other portions of the globe more completely
movieized. Disintegrated Russia, the Balkans and Asia are
great potential fields of wealth and opportunity for the mo-
tion picture industry. The number of motion picture thea-
tres is so small as to be but a tiny drop in the bucket. China,
with 400,000,000 potential movie fans, has fewer than 100
theatres, and these are concentrated in such cities as Hong-
kong, Peking, Shanghai and other foreign centers of popu-
lation.
No country in the world has more loyal motion picture
fans than Japan. The interest of the average Jap in pic-
tures is closely akin to that of the average American, as
American pictures have dominated this market during the
last eight years. Japan has approximately 2,500 theatres,
the great majority of which are small in size and which cater
to the poorer classes in the industrial districts. Tokyo,
Yokohama, Osaka and Kyoto are the principal movie centers,
Tokyo alone having more than fifty theatres giving regular
daily performances. These houses seat from 500 to 1,800
persons and cater to more than 15,000,000 patrons during
the year.
The great Japanese movie trust, which is said to be the
highest example of trustification yet evolved in any country,
controls and owns more than 600 theatres. Admission prices
range from twenty-five to seventy-five cents in the larger
theatres, with a few charging as high as $1.50, The majority
of theatres charge very small prices, as the Japanese laborer’s
pitifully small wages do not permit him to squander money
recklessly on his entertainment. Admission prices paid by
the poorer classes do not entitle them to seats, and they are
compelled to stand throughout the show. It is doubtful
whether any other country has so large a movie population
which would willingly stand throughout a two-hour show.
W HEN prosperity returns to Japan, serious attempts un-
doubtedly will be made to lighten the grip on the indus-
try held by the trust. Many new theatres must be built and
several millions of dollars will be required to provide the
proper presentation for the latest American films which have
such a great vogue in the island empire.
All of Asia, despite the inadequate transportation facili-
ties and the lack of theatres, represents a vast field for
development for the not far distant future. American pic-
tures already have made important inroads in India, the
Straits Settlements, Japan and other portions of the con-
tinent, but as yet the surface has scarcely been scratched.
Arrangements have been perfected to open Asia Minor and
the surrounding territory as the result of a commercial treaty
signed by Great Britain and Persia. An American company,
operating extensively throughout the world, will open head-
quarters for the distribution of its films at Tiflis, and will
establish exchange centers on the American plan in the
larger and more important commercial centers of Western
Asia as soon as business conditions permit. Residents of
the Euphrates valley, Bagdad, Mosul. Jerusalem, and other
sections of this territory, have had their first taste of the
American motion picture in the last four years, and they
are eagerly demanding more. Bagdad, w ith 200,000 popula-
tion, lias three theatres and is the largest movie center. India,
with a population of 400,000,000, has fewer than 150 thea-
tres, many of them of very small size.
Africa also is included in the undeveloped field, toward
which American exporters are looking with longing eyes.
Considerable business is carried on with Egypt and South
Africa, and it will not be many years before this business
is greatly increased. The return of more normal business
conditions will aid materially in the conquest of Africa
planned by the American producers and exporters.
Australia is another continent in which American photo-
plays have gained the upper hand. More than ninety per
cent of the films shown in Australasia are of American ex-
traction, although Australian film men are struggling to
establish a producing business of (Continued on page 54)
June, 1922
XI
How They Look Before Breakfast
FILMPLAY’S PHOTOGRAPHER MAKES SOME EARLY CALLS ON ELAINE HAMMER-
STEIN, OWEN MOORE, EUGENE O’BRIEN, MARTHA MANSFIELD AND CONWAY TEARLE
Left: Martha Mans-
field brings her
Kewpie to break-
fast with her so that
she will not be lone-
ly. The expression
on her face seems
to indicate , how-
ever, that Kewpie
hasn’t much to offer
in the way of
breakfast table chat
Right: Not many of us look as
bright and cheerful as Elaine
Hammerstein when Big Ben sud-
denly wakes us from our slum-
bers. Perhaps she went to bed very
early the night before or — perhaps
—her rising hour is not quite as
early as her pose would indicate
Of course, these pictures are just
what they purport to be; true
pictures of the intimate lives of
the screen stars. It would be a
pleasure if we could announce
that the cameraman had hidden
himself away the night before
they were taken and had caught
his subjects quite unaware. But
no cameraman ever caught a'star
unprepared to pose — not even
before breakfast. Indeed , they
wouldn’t be true pictures if
the players weren’t posing
Below: Living in the country
means a lot of fun as well as a lot
of work. It’s up to Conway Tearle
to bring in a bucket of fresh
water every morning , and here we
see him bravely doing his duty
Left: We are convinced that this is
the most intimate photograph of Owen
Moore ever taken. It is also a proof
of the system of efficiency which he .
has introduced into his daily life ; he
is enjoying his early morning orange
juice and his tub at the same time
Right: Because he is a “ city
feller” ’ Gene O’Brien insists
that his newspapers be served
as the first course of his break-
fast and he digests them before
he even glances at his prunes
12
F i l m play
A theatre street
in a Japanese
town
The posters arc
swung litre ban-
ners before the
theatres
The Japanese Carpet of Bagdad
By Philip Kerby
B UDDHA! Buddha! Buddha! Most worshipful
Gotama Buddha — Overlord of Earth, Air and Sky —
Pray, I beseech thee, let not my worthless body be
turned into a fish in my next incarnation! Hear the suppli-
cations of the shades of dear departed ancestors in my behalf
— and be merciful!”
The penitent, a youth of eighteen years, knelt alone within
the dim recesses of the Magnificent Chioin Temple in Kyoto
and begged for mercy, before the gleaming golden shrine.
In order to attract Buddha’s attention he tapped on a hol-
low gourd with a small teak mallet. The ensuing sound
resembled the beating of a tomtom by our own North Ameri-
can Indians. It was the first day of Thanksgiving for New Rice,
and in order to save his soul he would beat a thousand times
a day for a hundred days on the gourd — and then return to
his little rice paddie secure in the knowledge that he was safe
from becoming a fish. The faith of his ancestors handed
down for thousands of years — written records show that the
Emperor Jimuu ascended the throne in 660 B. C. — was good
enough for him, and for many others of his class.
Foreign visitors to Japan are too prone to judge the entire
Empire from a cursory examination
of the hurrying, bustling commerce
in the seaports. New York is no
more representative of the United
States than Yokohama is of Nippon.
To see the life of the country one
must travel inland to Kyoto, where
civilization has been but little af-
fected by outside influences. It has
been called by many the heart of the
Empire, since here one finds all the
wonderful ateliers of the cloisonne
pot tery, and the Damascene engraving
on metal, an art which was brought
to Japan in the second century by
artisans traveling by camel caravan from Damascus. Japan
as a whole is in a curious state of transition. The old is
warring with the new. The conservative element cannot un-
derstand the new-fangled ideas of the rising generation. The
progress along all lines during the last three score years is
amazing, when one remembers that it was only that long ago
that Admiral Perry sailed into Yokohama harbor — now
christened Mississippi Bay in his honor — and inserted the
virus of American “pep” into the dormant monster.
Japanese diplomats refuse to admit the fact that the gov-
ernment borrowed educational methods from America, bank-
ing from England, and the army system from Germany. In
order to awaken the country at large the people must receive
a stimulus toward education. The realization of their defi-
ciencies must be brought home to them, and what better
way is there than showing the different modes of life of other
countries, and particularly America? Thus reasoned the big-
wigs in the government. Through what agency could the
spirit of competition be aroused? How could the people as
a whole be awakened to their responsibilities of taking the
lead among oriental nations in world affairs? The solution
was found in the cinema. The light
in ihe projection machine was more
wonderful than Aladdin’s lamp!
I he silver screen was in very I ruth
(lie magical carpet from Bagdad.
The prophecy of the ancients had
come true. One had but to light the
lamp and behold the wonders of the
world unfold before the eyes. Diplo-
mat and coolie, schoolboy and phi-
losopher, merchant prince and pau-
per, had the lesson brought home to
them the lesson of progress.
The government was quick to note
the wonderful opportunities of offer-
"The Japanese Carpel of Bagdad" is the
fourth article in Film play’s series ,
"Around, the IP or Id With the Movies:'
Philip Kerby , the author , who is well
known to readers of Filmplay through
former contributions, is at present in the
Philippines , and writes that he is complet-
ing an article on motion pictures in the pro-
vincial districts of the islands. Next month
Janet Planner , who has returned to Europe,
will write of pictures and picture audiences
in Rome, in a delightful article called
"Thumbs Down on the Roman Movies"
June , 1922
13
ing sugar-coatecl education to the masses
and stimulated the interest of the people
by giving financial aid to various movie
houses. The four theatres established in
1910 have grown to nearly four thousand
in little more than a decade. Since
America was the cinema capital of the
world, it was only natural that American
films and American methods of exploita-
tion should be adopted.
Throughout the day the repentant Jap-
anese attends to his devotions or business
(both are in many respects synonymous)
and as soon as the first lanterns are
lit, puts up the shutters on his windows,
or says his thousandth Buddha, and hies
himself to Theatre Street — and to the
movies.
The foreigner, in passing from the
deep silence of the temple to the noisy,
blatant, shouting excitement of Theatre
Street in Kyoto, with its myriad electric
signs all blinking
the excellences of
the attractions in-
side — in curious
Japanese ideo-
graphs — tran-
scends a thousand
years in about as
many seconds.
The artist who
spends an entire
day chiseling a
single blossom on
a cloisonne vase
rubs shoulders
with the ’rickshaw
coolie as both
struggle to obtain
seats to see Pau-
line Frederick in
The Loves of Let-
ty . The student,
who has passed
his first matricu-
lation in The
Wheel of Life and
has started on his
mental voyage of
discovery along
the Eight Fold
Paths to Nirvana , laughs as uproariously as his neighbor —
the smelly fisherman — at Charlie Chaplin’s antics in The
Tramp. The merchant prince and the beggar both enjoy the
long news reels, the former wondering how he can capture
a little more of the commerce of the far-off empires and the
latter marveling that there seems to be employment for all.
The insidious germs of capturing more foreign trade and emi-
gration thus fall on fertile fields.
In passing, it might be well to recount the fact that Chaplin
is by all odds the favorite comedian, Mary Pickford the
“dream heroine,” Douglas Fairbanks the hero of the
“Bushido” (the society which numbers 4,000,000 members in
every village and hamlet, and is organized ostensibly for the
purpose of learning the manly arts of self-defense), while
Pauline Frederick and Norma Talmadge are about equal
favorites in dramatic roles.
Whether a Japanese belongs to the Samurai (the nobility)
or to one of the lesser castes, he takes particular pride in
being up on all the latest movie news. He dazzles one with.
How American mo-
tion pi rtn res are ad-
vertised in Japan.
Left: t poster an-
no an ring Jack Pick-
ford in "Just Out of
Colleger
Center: In an-
nouncement of " The
Last of the Mohi-
cans."
Right: A poster for
an Anita S ten art pro-
duction
statistics anent the private life of his particular favor-
ite, and in the most exclusive clubs there are often-
times hot arguments over the intricacies of certain
productions.
The argument occasionally waxes so hot, various
members taking sides with the principals, that in
order to settle the question without bloodshed a
search is made for an impartial arbiter — one who has not
seen the picture in question (this, too, is somewhat of a task
since, unless the arbiter was sick in bed at the time the picture
was shown he has little excuse for not seeing it), and the
whole club attends in a body, or makes arrangements through
the releasing company to have a special presentation at the
club.
The Japanese government also realizes the value of moving
pictures as a medium of propaganda. Seated in a loge orig-
inally built to hold six comfortably, I, together with sixteen
other occupants, witnessed five reels depicting the visit of
His Imperial Excellency Crown Prince Hirohito to Europe.
Not the smallest detail in the daily life of the Crown Prince
was omitted. After watching him enter and leave limousines
some thirty-seven times, and board and leave various war-
ships eighteen times, I lost count. Each lime troops or a
warship was shown die audience went wild with enthusiasm.
This enthusiasm was aroused not only by ihe long sub-
titles in Japanese, but also by ihe (Continued on page 52)
14
F ilm play
■J
P OETRY,” explains the Encyclopedia Americana , “has
been defined in many ways, and in the nature of the
case the term means different things under different
conditions.
“In general, it may be defined as emotional and imagina-
tive discourse in metrical form; that is, the representation of
experience, or ideas with special reference to their emotional
significance, in language characterized; by imagery and
rhythmical sound.” *
The suggestion of “emotional and imaginative discourse”
interested us most. For, in reading the Encyclopedia’s defini-
tion of poetry, we were thinking of Doris Kenyon. Doris,
the featured player in the Broadway success, Up the Ladder;
Doris, opposite George Arliss in The Ruling Passion ; Doris,
among those featured in Get Rich Quick Wallingford and
other equally successful pictures, and stage productions.
Physically, an expression of poetry, rhythm and beauty
realized in every movement of her tall, willowy form; emo-
tionally, finding natural expression through the medium of
poetry; her eyes — at : times ? blue, then bljie-gray, or violet-
mirroring the transient or the piercing thought swaying her.
And there came to mind her happy poem, My Message:
‘7 will sing you a little song
Which ' the wind will blow away;
Will it blow it to you, I wonder?
I like to feel the wind
Tear the notes from my lips;
It is almost as if
Y ou had kissed them away?’
What constitutes the background for this twenty-three-year-
old featured player and poet, a girl whose published poems
in many magazines have been assembled in book form and,
in collaboration with her father, have been published under
the title, Spring Flowers and Rowen.
Your instinctive answer upon seeing Doris would be:
exuberant and moodily imaginative youth. Fundamentally,
the answer is correct. In its broader scope, it misses the
mark. vr ~
For, thumbing through the twenty-three year pages that
comprise her life-book to date, we glean only the humorous
and the tragic incidents of youth, dramatized by a sensitive,
a vibrating soul. We glean the story of happy childhood
and sympathetic home life; of joyous-go-lucky school days;
of her vocal studies, and the girlish misery ever and anon
of practicing when the outdoors beckoned; we glean the joy
of a first-night opening on Broadway in Victor Herbert’s
Princess Pat; the thrill of a motion picture magnate’s offer
and the ecstasy of accepting.
Of weeks and weeks of hard work in studios, on the stage,
with her vocal studies, and “emotional and imaginative dis-
course” through her poetry. It is a picture fraught with
pitfalls of disappointments, and the recoil of a wounded soul;
when flooded with the brilliancy of soaring success and joy,
only to scoop dizzily into the “indigo regions” of an intro-
spective mind.
It is a picture of exuberant and moodily imaginative youth,
soaring over the mountain peaks and plunging down the val-
leys of moods.
It is curious to know that Doris has written many of her
poems while on location. Emotions seem to geyser within
her, when mentally she is poised to respond to the mood of
ihe scene. And in between shots, or while motoring to and
from location, she jots down the poignant thoughts fretting
for utterance.
“I wrote My Message Doris said to us when we dropped
in to see her the other day, “when riding to location for
scenes in The Ruling Passion , with George Arliss. I haven’t
any idea why it came to me, unless, probably, it was the
crystallization of a subconscious thought.” We hazard a dif-
ferent opinion. To us it seems the mellowing of the primi-
tive instinct of the joy of living.
But a different mood prompted the writing of The
Despoiler .
“Again we were on location for The Ruling Passion ” remi-
nisced Doris. “There were fifty odd people on the side
watching us take scenes. I didn’t resent their being there.
June , 1922
15
“Is there,” asks Doris, “any sight more beautiful than a
field of dandelions, gracefully dipping to the whimsy of the
breeze, forming a golden bed of petals and joyous color?”
But it is in The Hermit Thrush that the young poet reaches
a level of ecstatic worship:
“He sent from out the hollow dusk
His bell-like vesper call ,
And through the twilight's dews and musk
Like prayer it seemed to jail.
“Then the small creatures , born of day ,
Hid in their coverts deep
While through the evening , cool and gray
Night brought her gift of sleep."
“I wrote this,” recalled Doris, “after a night in the Silver
Lake Adirondacks, jacking deer. Do you know what jacking
deer is?”
We did not.
“It is marvelous,” she breathed fervently. “We left camp
at twilight. And it is only at twilight that the thrush sings.
I listened enraptured to the bell-like song of the bird. The
spell of its exquisite evening prayer, the peaceful lapping of
the water, the rippleless, powerful stroke of the guide as he
silently shot the canoe across the water.
“Then night. Mysteriously dark, with eerie shadows lend-
ing a gnome-like air to the still waiting. You could have
heard a pin drop. On my head I wore a light similar to
that on a bicycle, only much stronger. I turned my head
continually, lighting the woods in all directions, in the search
for deer.
“Suddenly I spotted a deer. My head, thereafter,
remained perfectly still, while the guide silently paddled
toward the shore where the deer, his beautiful, humid eyes
held spellbound
by the light,
stood motion-
less. We were
so close to the
deer that by
stretching out
my hand I
could have
touched him.
( Continued on
page 52)
“It is an undesired, an unsought, picture, and it
plunges one into such gloom.”
Even as Doris expresses herself through her work in
the parlance of Parnassus, so does she joyously convey
her deep love of Nature. Nature, to her, is fascinating, a
fearsome Power, yet it draws her with its beauty and repulses
her with its stark cruelty. The reckless gaiety inspired by
Nature in the lavishness of her own joy is rompingly uttered
in Dandelions:
Laughing and careless as of old.
The spendthrift summer, through the land.
Has passed and dropped these discs of gold
From out his idle hand.
A serious moment
Doris in
a gay mood
But I must have been a little tired, and fatigue rolled itself
into this package of revolt:
“How fascinatingly cruel you are!
You ivrench my thoughts away from me
When l try so hard to keep them.
You hold them up before you like colored toys
And laugh to bold derision
When you grind them under your heavy heels.
In the cool of the evening, l silently steal forth
And gather them up —
Poor crushed rose leaves .”
“Life,” dreamily, “sometimes seems to be a crushing of
things precious. And it is so harsh to crush what one holds
dear.”
Again there is the hint of tears in The Play , a poem written
when Doris appeared last year on Broadway.
“Sometimes,” she confessed, “especially when I
am playing on both the stage and the screen, and
when I am awfully tired, a veil is rent and in a
flash I see far below — as though I were a specta-
tor to a play — the cares and the sorrows that vie
with pleasure to form the foundation of Life. And
then I, too, become one with the countless thousands.
“And still the play goes on, nor ever palls
Laughter and comedy and mock despair.
But nightly, as the final curtain falls.
Mirth doffs her mask to show the face of Care."
F i l m play
16
»
By Alice Calhoun
Rambling Impressions
of California
Consirasting the bigness of New T ork, with its subways and
elevated railroads, its skyscrapers and the restless , seeth-
ing throng, with the bigness of California, its great out-
of-doors, its quaintness, its fruit and fowers, and its people
packing houses. I never saw so many in my life before.
And here we saw the largest apricot orchard in the world and
many acres or miles, it seemed to me, of grape vines. I say
vines, but here they do not build arbors and twine or tie the
vines to it. They are kept closely trimmed each year, I
believe, and the trunk of the plant or vine becomes more like
a tree trunk with short branches and looks like a huge spider
to me.
We located in Hollywood, a restful, quiet little place, with
hills all around, some snow-capped. It was with a feeling
difficult to analyze that I first saw Old Baldy and Mount
Lowe and Mount Wilson, standing guard like giant sentinels
in the distance.
The buildings are not high here. The California bunga-
low, famed the world over, looked like a veritable doll’s
house to me. . They are really adorable, many with gardens
of cactus, some with palms or pepper trees or acacias, but
all with geraniums and roses — geraniums grown to the roof
of these one-story little homes — and vines, such as smilax and
asparagus fern, growing everywhere. As I was walking along
the street I saw some candytuft all in bloom and it seemed
almost cruel to see people walk on it. We used it for bor-
ders in our summer gardens back East, you know.
California is the land of out-of-doors; sunshine and blue
skies are the rule, although it rains here, too — but we must
say since we are now “Californians” it is the “unusual” thing.
There are no really tall trees — excepting the eucalyptus
tree. It seemed strange, too, to see golf links without a car-
pet of green. They are often just fine gravel or sand, or at
least they look brown in the distance.
The orange groves are a never-lo-be-forgollen sight. It
is strange to see trees heavy with their golden burdens, with
a rich sprinkling of blossoms at the same time. The warm
sun is so inviting that even l lie trees believe it to always be
May.
Los Angeles is a wide-awake, progressive city, whose streets
arc crowded, whose stores arc well patronized and whose
people look prosperous and content with their lot. There
arc no elevated trains or subways. Beautiful buildings and
lovely parks abound, and there are splendid roads, through
valleys and canyons, around mountains, along the sea for
miles, each taking me to a place more lovely than the last.
The fruit and vegetable stores have much displayed that
is new to the Easterner. Avacados that sell from 50c to
$1.00 apiece; pomegranates, figs fresh from the tree, chiri-
moya, loquals* and a flower-like thing called Roselle , from
which jelly like that of crab apple is made. I must not
torgel the poinseltia fields, acres of gorgeous flowers, a wav-
ing forest of crimson.
There are no great rivers, no tall trees to speak of, not
many towering buildings (the mountains take their place), no
basements to speak of, or furnaces. ( Continued on page 51)
Alice Calhoun
I T WOULD seem strange to many, perhaps, to find it pos-
sible for us to feel “so at home” in California almost at
once, far from friends, with every view or outlook the
exact opposite from New York, which has been our home
so long.
There the buildings tower to unbelievable heights and one
has to look up to see the blue canopy that covers us. Multi-
tudes ol people move incessantly up and down the busy
streets— a restless, seething throng. Ships from every land
dot the harbor, and the Hudson river, that marvelous ribbon
of silver with its skyscrapers on one side and the Palisades
on the oilier bank, lends an everehanging scene from the win-
dow in our home on Riverside Drive. Everything is on a
gigantic scale, fascinating, bewildering sometimes, but
glorious.
That is what we left.
When to all this is added the hosts of friends, old and n6w,
tried and true, it may seem hard to leave. But did we leave
them? I doubt it; for are they not lodged in the sacred
confines of our very hearts, absent, yet ever with us?
Here! Well, we slopped at the quaint Spanish station at
San Bernardino just long enough to step out and take our
first real breath of California air. Above, the sky was as
blue as a May day’s and this was November. Groups of
Mexicans, with their huge hats, stood about, lending color and
picturesqueness to the scene. The stand where magazines
were displayed was a riot of color that just gave a finishing
touch. At Riverside, huge drays brought oranges to the
June, 1922
17
Seven Long Rays for Charlie
THE POPULAR STAR TURNS TO REAL LIFE FOR HIS CHARAC-
TERS AND THEN MAKES THEM AS HUMAN AS THE ORIGINALS
Left: More or less as he is off the screen
A ham actor
in “The Barn-
stormer”
A football
player in
“Two Min-
utes to Go”
Left: The owner
of a lunch wagon
in “The Deuce of
Spades”
A straight shooting westerner in
“The Deuce of Spades ”
Below: A Bowery tough in “Forty-
Five Minutes From Broadway ”
18
F i Imp l a y
From Studio to Dead Storage Vault
THE BIOGRAPHY OF A FILM
N O MATTER
how worth-
less or old a
hook is, somehow
you can always find
a copy of it tucked
away in a second-
hand book shop on
a back street. But
what becomes of all
the movies, good,
bad and indifferent,
which we see and
then never hear of
again? Haven’t you
often wondered
what unkind fate
snatched away from
mortal eyes the
aboriginal western
thriller in which
the prairie schooner
and a chase by In-
dians featured, and
which you paid
your nickel to see
and then went your
way in the good old
days before the
price of living
soared and the two-
dollar production
became the vogue?
Indeed, do you
know what will hap-
pen to the picture
you are going to see
tonight when the
letters on the elec-
tric sign are shifted
about again to ad-
vertise tomorrow’s
attraction? In compiling this biography, let us go back to
the actual shooting of the picture in a studio, say in Cali-
fornia. Usually, two cameras do the work in order that
there may be two separate negatives, the best for domestic
use, the other for export to the most important points in the
foreign market. It is with the former, however, that we are
most concerned.
As soon as the first print comes from the laboratory it is
rushed by .express to the company’s New York office, where
it is viewed immediately by the executives, sales managers,
advertising and exploitation men. This audience, or “op-
tience,” as students of the latest thing in dictionaries are say-
ing, puts upon the picture an appraisement of how much re-
turn can be expected from it. This does not mean profit,
but the actual sum the picture will take in. This . estimate
usually far exceeds the cost, for producers are only human
and expect to make money, like the rest of us. It is doubtful,
however, that an appraisement on a recent million dollar pic-
ture would even cover the cost, for the highest most produc-
ers ever dare to
hope for is $500,-
000, the average pic-
lure holding a valu-
ation of not more
than $100,000.
The film may be
held back for a
time, contingent up-
on market condi-
tions, but as a gen-
eral rule is given Lo
the public within
six or eight weeks
after its completion.
It starts its career
through a prere-
lease lo some fifty
of the largest thea-
tres throughout the
country. At that
time it may be seen,
perhaps, in the larg-
est theatre in the
world, a distinction
belonging to the
Capitol, New York’s
most magnificent
film house, where
the symphony or-
chestra introducing
and accompanying
the picture is the
most mammoth of
its kind in existence.
If the production
does not obtain the
privilege of play-
ing there, perhaps
its name will blaze
forth in thousands
of electric light
bulbs at the Criterion on Times Square. These prerelease
showings at times last a month or more, but there is always a
day set known as the general release date.
When this day' comes one hundred prints, the number gen-
erally made from the negative, will be in active service in
exchanges covering every state. First runs after the general
release last one or two weeks on Main Street. The second-
run theatres will hold a picture two or three days and its
next stop will be for a one-day engagement at the better -class
neighborhood house. Prices to the exhibitor are based upon
his seating capacity, running in a diminishing ratio as the pic-
ture gradually deserts the higher type of theatre for the
movie palace in an obscure section of the town. Thus you
might follow a photoplay making its rounds in a single city
for two or three months.
By this time the film is invading the country villages,
where the method of exploitation often furnishes an amusing
contrast to that used at the world premier in New York.
It no longer shines in electric splendor — its advent is now
By
Virginia
Thatcher Morrh
Daring the first few weeks of its life, the name of the film will blaze forth in thousands
of lights on Times Square
heralded by slanting billboards mounted on
a rickety wagon which is drawn by a de-
jected native mare. The more modest pro-
duction does not even enjoy this form of
advertising and must wait patiently for the
crowd to arrive through the persuasive
wording of a “one-sheet,” the smallest size
poster. When our spool of celluloid is
working in just such places it is performing
its greatest service by bringing entertainment and instruction to thousands
of people whom the most rural stock company would never reach.
After a year the usefulness of the average picture is exhausted. At the
end of that time it has moved before some ten million people. I lie usable
remains of the original hundred prints, many of which are then completely
worn out, are stored away in the local exchanges which have been handling
them. Perhaps sonic further use for them will arise — at any rate, storage
space is cheaper in Oklahoma than in New York City.
An exceptional feature, however, will boast of a longer period of activity.
The Miracle Man is renting just as regularly now as it was on it> general,
release date three years ago. Humoresque is still going strong. Fifty mil-
lion persons is not a high estimate to set on the ultimate audience of Over
the Hill or The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.
There is a practically interminable existence for the story with an historical
or literary value. The exhibition rights for such are often sold to non-
theatrical companies whose trade embraces schools and churches. From
such companies it is possible to secure old versions of almost every cla»ic
ever filmed, and they have all been doue at one lime or another in some hit-
or-miss fashion. There is always a ready market for a group of the crudest
conceptions of biblical stories imaginable. In spile of the fact that these one-
reelers produced more than fifteen years ago would provoke the average
audience of today to laughter, they are in constant demand simply because
they have never been replaced by better treatments of the same subject-matter.
This is the life of the average picture in the United States. The history of
its foreign exhibition varies somewhat. England is usually the first country
to use a picture of which a negative for export has been made. The cinema
in Great Britain does not hold the popular appeal it does here, and consc-
demand. Pictures pile in so fast from
an early release date for them, with the
result that
they reach the
British public
about a year
and? a half aft-
er their com-
pletion. They
gradually find
their way
across Europe,
until they fi-
nally reach the
Orient, at least
three years
after we have
labeled them
old. Only a
special type is
suitable for
Asiatic use.
In spite of the
fact that one
block in Yo-
kohama, known as the Cinema Street, contains
more than twenty-five movie houses, the patrons
are not at all liberal in their approval and are
extremely partial to the Eddie Polo or Tom Mix
variety, scorning all else.
A film never intended for export may find its
way to China or South America when it has
become utterly worthless in this country, and is
sold by its owner to someone speculating in the
foreign market.
Circumstances, too, may recall a picture into
service in the United States. We are all per-
fectly familiar with the “revival.” The Birth
of a Nation , I hope, will enjoy many of them.
Old screen interpretations of La To sea, Sapho
and Carmen have recently been re-cut in a new
scheme to synchronize opera with the filmplay.
Caruso’s death brought his only work before
the camera, My Cousin , ( Continued on page 53 )
Above: The second stage comes
when the film is shown at the better-
class neighborhood houses.
Right : Later on its advent is her-
alded on slanting billboards mount-
ed on a rickety wagon.
Below: Tin ally it reaches foreign
lands, where it is welcomed as the
newest picture from the States
20
F ilm play
What’s Wrong With Your Photoplay Story?
SOME HINTS TO THE AMATEUR WHO CANNOT
UNDERSTAND WHY HIS PHOTOPLAYS ARE REJECTED
By Jerome Lachenbruch
U NCLE SAM reaps a good harvest in stamps every year
from the thousands of authors who are convinced that
they have written the one great photoplay of the year.
Many of them have what patronizing instructors in schools
of journalism call “promise.” But most of them haven’t
any conception of dramatic values. To be more particular,
they do not understand the difference between a story that is
melodramatic only and one that contains a germ of valid
dramatic conflict.
This conclusion was formed after consulting some two
hundred amateur manuscripts that had been submitted to the
Goldwyn Pictures Corporation, and from going through the
files of that organization’s reading department to find out
exactly how manuscripts are read and reported upon. Stories
submitted to all large companies are divided into two classes,
amateur and professional. The former consist of those writ-
ten by authors whose work has not been published in book
form or in magazines. In the professional class the readers
include work by authors whose stories are known to have
been published, whether or not the particular manuscript
submitted has already been printed.
The completeness of the record kept at the Goldwyn office
is amazing to the layman. Not only are nearly all American
magazines combed for photoplay material, but foreign pub-
lications also are read. As a consequence, thousands of
stories pass through the hands of the reading department
every year. Yet, in the past six months, not one amateur
manuscript has been considered worthy of production.
A VERY careful record is kept of every manuscript sub-
mitted; and during the past year about seven thousand
amateur stories have been rejected for one reason or another.
The amateur, reading this, will say, “Surely, there must have
been at least one story that was as good as some of those
that were accepted from professional writers.” The answer
is that there were, perhaps, a few. But the amateur, in order
to break into the ranks of the professional, must write some-
thing better if he wishes to attract attention to himself ; and
he hasn’t done so. Furthermore, the professional writer,
whose work has been published either in book or magazine
form, has a prestige that public print has given him. The
amateur can surmount this only by exceptional work.
Every American magazine and every novel is read as soon
as it is published, so eager are photoplay producers to find
acceptable material. An examination of the Goldwyn files
reveals the fact that thirty-five American monthly maga-
zines are read with religious regularity. Besides these, ten
weeklies and five semi-monthlies are scanned for stories.
Among foreign publications, about ten French, German and
Italian magazines are read every month.
One of the favorite plots that most amateurs embroider
upon is the tale of the pretty little country girl who leaves
her home to come to the great city in search of work. Of
course, she leaves home because her parents are very “mean”
to her, and she “flees at night.” Parenthetically, the author
states that the heroine doesn’t know how wicked the big
city is.
Other favorite stories relate the adventures of the innocent
country girl and the wicked city man. Sometimes — somehow
— the country girl acquires great wealth, spurns her city
“pursuer” and goes home to marry her country-boy lover.
These simple tales are. told and retold with a naivete that is
astounding; and the authors persist in assuring the producers
to whom they submit their manuscripts that their work is
absolutely original.
A particular “masterpiece” — many unscreened authors refer
# to their work as “masterpieces” — consisted of a four-line
synopsis, followed by a scenario in thirteen scenes. The
usual number is about two hundred and thirty for a five-reel
picture. In the postscript the author stated: “I hope you
will except my story as I did not have my mind down to rite
when I wrote it.”
Other authors seem to take it for granted that their manu-
script will be accepted, and put a price tag on their work.
A writer who signed himself “master,” wrote two letters,
every other line of which told the scenario editor that he
would not accept a check, but cash only!
S TRANGE as it may seem, about forty per cent of those
who submit manuscripts to photoplay producers represent
various stages of illiteracy.
Despite the painful ignorance of photoplay demands dis-
played by the authors of most amateur scripts — certainly a
pardonable ignorance — one wonders what our schools have
done to our American children to fail utterly in equipping
them with a language in which to express their thoughts
intelligently. Old American names are signed to scripts and
accompanying imperative letters that are scarcely understand-
able. One can forgive a haltingly written manuscript from
an immigrant, but the “literary” work of unequipped Ameri-
cans, as evidenced in the manuscripts submitted to photoplay
companies, is the most damaging indictment of our rural and
city school systems that has come to the writer’s attention.
However discouraging this may be, it will not deflect the
thousands of aspiring authors who are convinced that they
have written the only stories worthy of screen presentation.
The most evident deficiency in their work is a lack of origi-
nality. They are guilty of unconscious plagiarism. They go
to their local photoplay theatre, see a thrilling picture, go
home, mull over its incidents until these have become per-
sonal, and then sit down to write the same story in the belief
lhat it is their own. This is the unconscious process that pro-
duces most amateur manuscripts.
O CCASIONALLY, the author has a single incident which
he surrounds with a volume of melodramatic nonsense.
A writer of experience may have no better ideas than the
untrained writer, but he avoids the pitfalls of the amateur
through his knowledge of craftsmanship.
If a catalogue of Donts will do any good to those who. are
striving to have their photoplays produced, here are a few
which, if followed, will bring the blessings of every photo-
play reader upon the head of the embryo genius of the motion
picture.
1. Don’t write your manuscript in pencil. Have it type-
written. Your predecessors have made the readers take
to wearing glasses.
2. Don’t point out the excellence of your script. The reader
has had years of experience, and has read thousands of
stories before yours came to his desk. Give him credit
for a little perspicacity and judgment.
June , 1922
21
3. Don’t write a scenario. This is the technical form in
which a story is cast for the director. Specialists in this
form of writing take your synopsis and arrange it into
scenes. A scene usually changes whenever the position
of the camera must be shifted. Only a man who has
worked in a studio may be expected to know this.
4. Don’t write your story in 100 words. Make it from one
to three thousand words, and in your eagerness to talk
about the story, don’t forget to tell it.
5. Don’t forget that a single idea isn’t a story.
6. Don’t delude yourself into thinking that a photoplay com-
pany is waiting for your particular manuscript and is
interested in your ideas. A letter to the effect that you
have some good ideas may be very interesting, but the
picture companies haven’t any time to bother with your
ideas. They’ve been fooled too often that way. Now
you’ve got to suffer for the thousands of times that your
literary ancestors have cried: “Wolf!” Get your ideas
into story form and send them in.
7. Don’t try to hold up a company. Be satisfied to have
your story accepted. Terms can be arranged later.
8. Don’t ever get the idea into your head that a motion pic-
ture producer is waiting to steal your story. Did you
ever stop to think that it would be cheaper to pay you
several thousand dollars for a story than to have you
bring suit for the theft of your effusion? Remember,
that the photoplay producer knows the damning value of
unsavory publicity.
9. Don’t think that your story is worth more than one by
Rupert Hughes or Mary Roberts Rinehart. Be modest.
10. Don’t write a line until you have learned to express
your ideas in untrimmed English.
To these few precepts should be added a word of advice
to the effect that would-be photoplaywrights should read
more widely, see more photoplays and discover for them-
selves how rich a literature has already been translated into
the language of the screen. Originality is not, as some have
maintained, a gift that a few have and the rest of us have
not. It is knowing what has already been done and then not
doing it again. There may be a limited number of funda-
mental plot situations, but they permit of inexhaustible varia-
tions. The more one reads, the less presumptuous one be-
comes and the less eager to shout about one’s genius. There
are still millions of original stories left in the world. Surely
the reader can find one!
The Board
*
of Censors
By Themselves
[Plus A. D.] b
The Chairman: The Secretary:
My name is Isaac Upright Spink;
I’m Florizel Bianca Smythe;
I used to sell light wines and beer
I ivrite the records of the meetings.
In Pinkhamville. I didn’t think
My stupid colleagues make me writhe
That when the judge gave me a year
With, silly jokes and vapid bleatings.
For selling minors on the sly ,
My word, they make some awful slips —
That I’d be sitting here like God,
They thought a titled Spanish don
T o say what’s fit for the infant eye . . .
Wrote that “Horsemen of the Apocalypse”
The ways of politics is odd!
When a fool would know it’s by St. John.
The Vice-Chairman: The Treasurer:
And I’m Euphemia Touchstone Smart %
I’m Hiram James, a nephew of Jesse ;
I put the kibosh on “ The Sheik.”
I never did a good day’s work in my life,
I’ll tell you why: it wrung my heart —
But it happens the Governor’s third maid, Tessie,
Put me in mind of Minnie Meek,
Is a second cousin of my first wife.
A girl I knew who fell in the hands
So here I sit on the Censor Committee —
Of a camel-driver in T imbuctoo . . .
Can’t tell a fillum from potato blight.
I’m agin all travel in foreign lands —
Thought Jesse Lasky a gal in a ditty . . .
See Niagara Falls — or Kalamazoo.
But I sign the checks ev’ry Saturday Night.
22
¥ i l m p l a y
Bill Duncan’s Early Training for the Screen
AN AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH BY THE POPULAR PLAYER
WITH CARTOONS BY THE AUTHOR
I S predestination or environment the controlling influ-
ence in a man’s life? I have often heard the question
discussed. Owing to the varied kinds of pietures in
which 1 have appeared, including sensational .serials and fea-
ture productions, I have been fre-
quently asked to answer it.
In my own particular case, I
have decided that the forming of
my career was due purely to
force of circumstances. It has
been my fortune to experience
dangerous situations in the mak-
ing of pictures and so far to es-
cape without any serious results.
Still, I feel that the performance
of these stunts comes more as
the result of an acquired accom-
plishment rather than from any
natural gift.
In my early years I enjoyed,
two s particular distinctions — a
talent for drawing and a remark-
ably retentive memory.
Owing to the natural religious
tendencies of the Scottish people,
I spent considerable . time in
churchy Sunday school, bible
classes, and; in the usual reading
of certain biblical chapters each night at home. Constant
perusal of these passages resulted in my being called upon
to recite entire chapters without reference to the book.
In time I was able to quote from memory.
From the foregoing it would seem as if I were destined
either to become a minister or an artist. Suddenly I was
lifted out of this environment entirely. My father, who had
been in the United States for a couple of years, decided to
send for his family. After due preparations we sailed —
eventually landing in New York, and were duly installed in a
flat on Long Island.
Those flat buildings were a distinct novelty, as we always
had lived in a home of our own. They were five stories in
height^ and the fact that six stood in a row naturally brought
me into contact with more children than hitherto had been
my boyish lot.
In this connection, I first acquired one of those accomplish-
ments that figure so handily in my present work. Those who
have seen my pictures probably will recall that I have done
considerable swimming, diving and other aquatic work.
One day I made my way to the roof by means of a scuttle
hole. I discovered that I was on one of the highest buildings
in town. In the center of the roof stood a large tank. I
heard peculiar noises emanating from the tank’s interior.
Walking around to the opposite
side, I investigated. At the foot
of the ladder, which reached to
the top of the tank, there were
numerous small bundles of
clothing — shirts, trousers and
shoes. I climbed the ladder and
looked into the tank, discovering
that a number of boys were in-
side swimming around. I didn’t
stop to figure that this water was
the sole domestic supply for the
tenants, but assumed that it merely was another one of those
wonderful conveniences, in this instance a boys’ swimming
pool. Immediately I divested myself of all clothing and
climbed to the edge of the tank. Upon being asked if I
could swim, I replied that I
wasn’t so sure, but thought that
I could. The other boys swam
to the tank’s edge so that I might
have plenty of room to dive,
which, without hesitation, I did.
Struggling to the surface, I
found that I could not swim.
Flopping about wildly, without
thought of anything further than
keeping my head out of the wa-
ter, I forgot all about trying to
reach the side of the tank. The
rest of the boys evidently be-
came panic-stricken. I was mak-
ing considerable noise, and the
expected appearance of the jani-
tor no doubt had something to do
with their hasty exit.
Somehow or other I managed
to make the side of the tank, but
did not have sufficient strength to
pull myself out. When possibly
five minutes later the janitor ap-
peared he found me hanging there, half full of water, but
still able to call for help. The janitor escorted me down to
our flat, gave the details to my mother, and later, when my
father came home, the situation was also explained to him.
I dislike to dwell upon the termination of what had promised
to be a perfect afternoon. I got all that was coming to me,
but I had learned to swim.
Since that time I have experienced no fear of the water,
but do not recommend my introduction to the sport and
would warn the novice not to make it necessary for flat
dwellers to use the outside hydrant while the tank supply is
being replenished.
Another outstanding feature of my pictures has been the
result obtained by use of high explosives. It has been neces-
sary to make quite a study of this tricky factor in the pro-
duction of spectacular films. Frequently, in this connection,
we have obtained results rather out of the ordinary.
I can remember distinctly where the interest for that sort
of thing originated in my mind. Our family had been in the
United States but a short time when the Fourth of July came
round. I hadn’t the slightest idea of what the Fourth was all
about, any more than the average boy knows about the na-
tional holidays of European countries. But it occurred to
me that here was an excellent opportunity to indulge in all
the noise-making festivities pos-
sible.
Awakened by the booming of
cannon, the reports of pistols,
firecrackers and the noise of
various other explosives (in
those days they celebrated the
Fourth as it was intended to be,
celebrated), I arose hastily,
jumped into my clothes and,
without waiting for breakfast,
went out to see what was going
‘7 heard peculiar noises emanating from the tank's interior
Most of us have seen William Duncan on the
screen playing the reckless hero in a thrilling
serial. Apparently Bill’s childhood was as
exciting as the adventures of any character he
ever played. His own story of some of the
incidents of his boyhood makes most amusing
reading. Incidentally, Bill is an excellent car-
toonist's the illustrations for liis article prove
June , 1922
23
on. I found some of the larger boys dodging behind tele-
graph poles, in doorways and various other places, all their
eyes concentrated upon a good-sized brass cannon, lying out in
the street. It seems that after they had rammed a full charge
into it and lit the fuse they had scampered to places of safety,
awaiting the discharge. Some defect in the timing fuse used
for such purposes had caused it to go out and, while they
were morally certain, they were not taking any chances by
going too close. They had been there before. I inquired
as to the cause of this lull in the proceed-
ings and when it was explained to me
offered to take the stick of punk and re-
light the fuse.
The punk was gladly handed to me. I
approached the cannon and discovered
the usual touch-hole, with a small heap
of black powder surrounding it and the
smallest fraction of a fuse protruding
therefrom. I leaned over and did my best
to ignite the fuse. The loudest explosion
I have heard, before or since, occurred
directly under my nose.
For the next hour my eyesight was
blurred. My jaws had been jammed to-
gether so violently that I felt as if every
tooth in my head had been loosened. I
have heard of people having the taste
knocked out of their mouth, and, if that
is possible, such was my predicament in
addition to everything else. Eventually,
I regained sufficient interest to lend fur-
ther efforts toward the celebration of the
glorious Fourth. Borrowing a small,
single-shot blank cartridge pistol, I pro-
ceeded to add to the terrific din. I hadn’t
the slightest idea that this method of celebration was contrary
to any city law or ordinance. It was a great surprise when,
as I was about to shoot, the boys discovered a policeman
coming, and each immediately assumed a nonchalant attitude
and seemed uninterested in my operations. They told me to
get the pistol out of sight.
Following instructions to the letter, I sat down on a door-
step with the small pistol in one hand, already cocked, cov-
ering it with the other and trying to look unconcerned. In
the effort to exaggerate my attitude of indifference I evi-
dently fingered the cocked trigger a trifle too carelessly. At
any rate, when the policeman was within ten feet of me and
apparently about to pass by without notice, I shot myself
in the hand with the 22 blank. Visions of arrest flashed
through my mind. The policeman did nothing further than
order me home to have my hand thoroughly cleaned, lest I
might get lock-jaw.
Later in the afternoon I again regained my enthusiasm and
found some of the larger boys shooting real pistols, with real
bullets, no doubt using some judgment in the direction in
which they were shooting. A gun was handed to me upon
request. As a target, I used a very nicely painted and highly
varnished grocery wagon, standing idle at the curb, owing to
the holiday. At the first shot I noticed a small, neat hole
in the side of the wagon, never giving a
thought as to where the bullet that made
it had proceeded to. Neither did I notice
another point that evidently afforded the
other boys real enjoyment. It was the
fact that, while the hole I mentioned was
very neat and clear-edged on the outside,
on the inside a large chunk had been
knocked off, which evidently had flown
across the empty space in the wagon and
snapped off half a board. The boys en-
couraged me to continue shooting, which
I did, with rare enjoyment. Finally,
after the wagon looked like a sieve, I
searched for a fresh target and found it
in the tail-gate of the wagon, as yet un-
touched by my fusilades. The tail-gate,
unlike the sides of the wagon, was rein-
forced in places by heavy scrap iron. My
first shot struck one of these metal strips,
rebounded and popped me squarely in the
middle of the forehead.
Again I recovered, and when the big
Fourth of July parade, in which the vari-
ous business men’s clubs, politicians, la-
bor unions and secret orders were repre-
sented, came along, I stepped into the ranks and marched as
proudly as any native-born American.
Having been in the country but a short while, and never
having been more than a few blocks away from our flat
dwelling, I probably used bad judgment in following the
parade without a thought as to where it would take me. But
a man who was quitting the parade handed me a torch he
had been carrying and advised me to take his place.
This torch appealed to me as by far the most wonderful
contrivance I had ever seen, and I carried it, it seemed, for
hours.
The parade finally disbanded in that section of Brooklyn
called Green Point, quite a few miles from where I had
joined it. I didn’t see a soul I knew and hadn’t the slightest
idea whether to turn north, south, (Continued on page 55)
“I joined the parade”
Left: “The loudest explosion I have ever heard occurred directly under my nose” Center: “I shot myself in the hand” Right: “My first shot
struck one of these metal strips and rebounded ”
24
Film play
How Polish Is Pola?
BEING A FEW REMARKS ABOUT AN ERSTWHILE SHOP-
GIRL NAMED PAULA NEGRI
I KNOW quite a
few sophisticated
people, and some
who are ultra-sophis-
ticated. It was one
of these ult-sophs who
heard me say some-
thing about Pola Ne-
gri being Polish, and
a scornful laugh
laughed he.
“Polish as sauer-
kraut,” he scoffed.
I didn’t give him
much of an argument,
since even I have
learned to take with
a grain of salt what
some of these press
agents dish up. But
I wish I had known
then what I do now,
because nothing de-
lights me more than
to deflate some of
these lads with an
excess of synthetic
sophistication.
The films starring
Pola Negri, vaguely
and indefinitely char-
acterized as “conti-
nental,” were obvious-
ly, to the discriminat-
ing, “made in Ger-
many.” Her director
was a German. She
worked in a studio
near Berlin. Wasn’t
it natural to assume
that she was also Ger-
man, inspired infor-
mation to the contrary
notwithstanding. Her
name, of course, was
not Germaine, but wliat do names indicate among players?
When Gladys Smith dissolves into the celluloid of Mary
Pickford, and Olga Kronck emerges as Claire Windsor, and
Elsie Ferguson is really Mrs. Thomas Clark, Jr., what’s in a
name? Pola Negri suggests Poland, but that is all the more
rea^pn for r peering through the professional name at the un-
varnished name she had at birth.
“Polish as sauerkraut,” he laughed, and more than half
convinced me with his derision. Truth is sometimes much
too true to be believed.
In my attempts to find out the real nationality of Pola
Negri I went around to the offices of the United Polish Socie-
ties and the Polish Chamber of Commerce and then I stopped
in to see the Polish consul in New York.
“Pola Negri? Ah, she is the heroine of the Polish peo-
ple,” responded the
head of the United
Polish Societies. “Of
course she is Polish.
Born and reared in
Poland, she is loyal
to her native land
even though many of
her pictures have
been filmed in Ger-
many. Among the
Polish people in
America she is the
most popular of all
film players.”
If she comes to
America delegations
from the Polish so-
cieties will go down
the bay to welcome
her, and the Polish
Chamber of Com-
merce is planning to
honor her with a din-
ner and dance. At
the Polish consul’s
office ihey had a sur-
prise for me. “Of
course she’s Polish,”
they said, “and I’ll
tell you just how
Polish she is. While,
for business reasons,
she has had to work
in Germany, there be-
ing no film produc-
tion in Poland, she
has sent back lo Po-
land each month a
part of her salary to
be devoted lo the
cause of Polish free-
dom. That’s how she
loves Poland.”
When her d ireclor,
Ernest Lubitsch, arrived from Germany, I asked him about
Pola Negri. Somehow I didn’t seem to get very far in our
conversation through the interpreter, for my English meant
nothing to him, and his German meant little to me. Mention
of Pola Negri made his face light up, but what the interpreter
said he said about Pola Negri did not mean much.
Now Lubitsch has gone back to Germany and is directing
Pola Negri in a new picture, which will keep her busy in
Europe for many months. After that she may pay a visit
lo America, and then again she may not.
The Hamilton Theatrical Corporation, to whom Miss Negri
is under contract to make Paramount pictures, plans to keep
her pretty busy for a while, according to Ralph A. Kolin,
treasurer of the Hamilton Corporation, who saw Miss Negri
in Paris last month. (Continued on page 53)
By Glendon Allvine
Pola Negri and Ernest Lubitsch, her director , on location at San Moritz , Switzerland,
Photograph by Victor Georg , TV. Y.
MABEL BALLIN
The lovely wife of Hugo Ballin, artist and motion
picture director , who is soon to he seen in the leading
role of his production , “ Other Womens Clothes 99
F wenty-jive
Photograph by Freulich, L. A.
HOOT GIBSON
A star in Universal’s western thrillers whose
popularity continues to grow with each new release
T wenty-six
Photograph by Alfred Cheney Johnston. N. Y.
, MARIE PREVOST
Lately a bathing girl in Mack Sennett
comedies and now a Universal star
Tuenty-seven
Photograph by Campbell Studios, N. Y.
DOROTHY PHILLIPS
«
A summery portrait of the star of “Soul-Seekers ” a
production directed by herjmsband , Allen Holubar
Photograph by Donald Biddle Keyes, L. A.
BEBE DANIELS
Looking very charming in a gingham frock which is not one of
her costumes for “Blood and Sand” a story of the bull ring
T wenty-nine
MAE MURRAY AND CREIGHTON HALE
In “Fascination” Miss Murray has the most varied role of
her career as well as the greatest variety of male support
Thirty
Photograph, by Kendall Evans, N. Y.
MAE MURRAY AND ROBERT W. FRAZER
It is difficult to recognize the blonde star as
the charming Spanish heroine of “ Fascination ”
Thirty -one
r
Photograph by Paul Grertbeauz, L. A.
SESSUE HAYAKAWA
One of the screen s most finished actors who has
recently been seen in “The Vermilion Pencil”
Thirty -two
June, 1922
A Most Familiar Face
LONG BEFORE SHE WENT INTO MOTION PICTURES THE WORLD KNEW
EDITH JOHNSON AS THE KODAK GIRL
By Harold Howe
T HE most familiar face
in the world! That is
what I thought the
first time I saw Edith John-
son on the screen, yet I
could not recall where I had
met her.
I knew Edith Johnson!
She was — that is, her face
was as familiar to me as my
own mother’s, yet I could
not place her. Having been
a close observer of the
screen and screen players, I
knew that I had never seen
her before on the silver
sheet, so it was not through
motion pictures I recognized
her. As far as I was con-
cerned hers was a new
screen countenance.
Then I suddenly remem-
bered. 1 had seen her
photograph in every maga-
zine 1 had read for months.
It had gazed at me from
billboards; it had peeped at
me from pages of news-
papers. Edith Johnson was
the girl chosen by one of
the greatest manufacturing
companies to advertise their
product. As the Kodak girl,
her face had smiled at read-
ers in every corner of the world. No wonder I thought 1
knew her when lier face first flashed upon 1 lie silver sheet.
It was a perfectly natural thing that Miss Johnson should
find her way into motion pictures. Her photographic quali-
ties attracted the attention of producers and film offers fol-
lowed. After one or two minor engagements she went to the
West coast to act as leading woman for William Duncan in
Vilagraph serials.
In explaining her total “greenness” as to what was re-
quired of a serial actress, she recently told me:
“When I first joined Mr. Duncan in serial making I had
no idea what the work involved. I thought that all the
‘stunts’ were photographically faked — that it was only a mat-
ter of reading a script and passing before a camera. I be-
lieved that action of a hazardous nature would be taken care
of in some strange manner. I soon learned how terribly
wrong I was.
“The first day out on exteriors a scene demanded that I
jump off the side of a bluff into the water, a distance of
twenty feet. Mr. Duncan gave instructions. ‘I want you
also to swim under the water as far out as possible,’ he told
me, ‘so that you can’t be shot. These chaps are supposed to
dioot at you and you stay under to avoid bullets.’
“I was so frightened I nearly fainted. Then, as I stood
on the edge awaiting the word, it came to me that I had told
Mr. Duncan 1 could swim and dive, which was true, but I
hadn’t counted on swimming
under water or jumping off
heights. As I looked at the
lake it seemed a thousand
feet away. To make a long
story short, I shut my eyes,
caught a sob in my throat,
stifled a scream and dived.
I swam under water until I
thought my lungs would
burst and then came to the
surface. Mr. Duncan was *
delighted. He didn’t know
that the swim back was a
thing of agony. I thought
every moment was my last.
But I managed to muster a
smile when I reached the
dock and no one realized
how scared I really was.
“Another ‘stunt’ that fol-
lowed shortly after nearly
paralyzed me with fear. I
was put into a bosun’s chair
and hoisted to ihe top of a
lofty California redwood
Iree in which a hut had been
built. I remember waving
my hand in a nonchalant
manner, a farewell to the
staff remaining below, as I
began to ascend. Mr. Dun-
can had preceded me and
called to me encouragingly
as I swung upward. 1 know lliat I would have fainted if 1
had looked down. So I kept my eyes on him, my face
frozen in a slock smile. He assisted me over ihe rail and
into the tree hut. I then felt decidedly more comfortable
and began to look about. The view was beautiful and you
could see for miles around. In ihe distance the tops of the
Sierra Nevada range shone like diamonds in the sun. The
staff below looked like liny ants moving about.
“A camera man was in an adjoining tree to make close-ups
so I was up ihere for some time. From our tree an aerial
trolley line stretched some hundred feet or so across a chasm
to a tree top on the other side and, according to script, Mr.
Duncan and I were to make our escape across the valley that
way from the scoundrels who were supposed to cut down
the tree in which we were hiding. I managed to gel through
with all the preliminary details that led up to the ‘stunt,’ but
when it came to the aerial trolley trip I felt all the sensation
of mortal fear.
“Mr. Duncan saw my face turn white even under the
makeup, but assured me the trip was as simple as taking a
ride on terra firnia in my own car. I shut my eyes as he put
me into Lhe loop, then he followed, tightly grasping me about
the waist, and we began to slide through the air. It was over
in a minute and I recall only faintly being lifted off onto the
ground. I had thought we were going to land in the tree
lop opposite, but the aerial line (Continued on page 55 •)
Edith Johnson
34
F Umplay
Introducing the Norrises
CHARLES G. AND KATHLEEN, BOTH NOVELISTS OF REPUTE, BRING
HOPE FOR THE FUTURE OF THE SCREEN
W E confess that we
still take a childish
delight in surprises,
and we cannot imagine any-
thing much more pleasur-
able than to have published
a novel without once having-
thought of the motion pic-
ture possibilities of the tale
and then have an agent in-
quire of us how great a sum
we wished for the picture
rights.
Charles G. Norris, whose
novel, Brass , has been one
of the outstanding fiction
successes of the year, told
us the other day that he had
just had that delectable
experience.
Mr. Norris explained how
he had worked for months
on this latest story of his at
his home in Saratoga, not
far from San Francisco. It
is a place of pleasant retire-
ment, where one so inclined
may count the world more
or less lost. And not once
during those months did the
thought of what manner of
picture his novel might
make cross his mind.
Brass , as you who have read it will know, is an intimate
study of married life; a novel of characterization rather than
action. It would ordinarily pass unnoticed as available pic-
ture material.
Consequently, Mr. Norris’s surprise was great when one
day he had a wire put in his hand from his literary agent in
New York asking his price for the picture rights to Brass.
So great, indeed, that Mr. Norris wired back, “Anything
over five dollars.”
Perhaps that was said in jest, perhaps not. We shall leave
the producer, who subsequently wrote Mr. Norris a cheque in
five figures, to worry over that. And since the cheque has
been cashed and the amount
invested, it will not do him
any good to worry himself
into the role of Indian giver.
Since the heyday of the
Edgerton Castles and the
Williamsons there has been
no case which comes to our
mind of both husband and
wife being successful in the
writing of fiction compar-
able to the Norrises. For a
number of years, while he
was still engaged in editorial
work, Mr. Norris no doubt
appeared to many people as
filling the dubious role of
the husband of a well-known
wife. The name of Kath-
leen Norris was familiar to
everyone who took any in-
terest in current fiction; but
it was not until Mr. Norris’s
novels, The Amateur and
Salt , were published that he
began to build a separate
literary name for himself.
Indeed, he perhaps la-
bored under a double disad-
vantage; for he was also the
brother of Frank Norris,
whose death, while he was
still in his youth, certainly
robbed us of a writer who
was far on his way toward
a pre-eminent position in
American fiction. Who to-
day can read The Pit , or
MacTeague, or Vandover and
the Brute without again ex-
periencing the vivid feeling
of how keen a loss that was?
But no one who knew the
Norrises in those earlier
days thought for a moment
of Charles Norris as playing
second fiddle in the family
literary orchestra. For they
knew how fine was the relationship between them. They
knew what an integral part Mr. Norris was playing in his
wife’s success. And they loved and respected him for it.
Perhaps it is wandering a little afield to talk about the
early trials and tribulations of a fiction writer in a report
that supposedly has to do with motion pictures; but Mr.
Norris’s recounting of his experience in marketing the first
short story which Kathleen Norris wrote seems to us such
a nice example of tenacity and editorial fallacy that it should
be of interest anywhere.
In those days Mrs. Norris was reporting for a San Fran-
cisco newspaper, exploring the highways and byways of that
amazing city, and putting
her pen point to the delinea-
tion of such of life’s little
tragedies and comedies as
crossed her path. Material
for fiction was there, and
Mr. Norris urged her to get
some of it onto paper. And
when the first of what was
to be a long series of short
stories was written, Mr. Nor-
ris put it into an envelope
and sent it off to a magazine.
To talk with him is to
realize that whatever he set
By Arthur Denison
Charles G. Norris
Since the heyday of the Edgerton Castles and the Williamsons
there has been no case which comes to mind of both husband
and wife being successful in the writing of fiction comparable
to the Norrises. Mrs. Norris's work has already reached
the screen. In a few months her husband’s novel/ 1 Brass’’ wilT
grace the screen's of the land. They both believe in the future
of pictures. They both think that a great step toward pre-
serving the author’s intentions on the screen will be made
when the author is allowed to work in association with the
producer , taking part in consultations over the adaptation ,
and working in harmony with the director while the picture is
being produced. The Norrises promise to be one of the big-
gest factors in the forwarding of pictures to their logical goal
/ u n e, / 9 22
35
his hand to would be done in a systematic, orderly fashion.
And in this instance, he was efficient to a point which would
delight the heart of our modern business expert. He pre-
pared a list of possible magazines, twenty-six of them,
arranged in alphabetical order.
Consequently, the All antic Monthly headed the column,
and it was to Boston that Mrs. Norris’s story journeyed first.
Presently, back it came. But if here was a disappointment,
I here were twenty-five chances left, and away the tale went
again seeking a home in the printed page. But once again
llie fat envel-
ope made its
Happiest Night of Her Life . > And that is rather remarkable
when you think of the fact dial her novels are not primarily
stories of action, but rather studies of character and of peo-
ple. Perhaps Mrs. Norris’s greatest gift is that the people
she draws are so universally recognizable. The things they
do are so humanly natural. A certain character comes to life*
out of her pages, and you quite instinctively say, “Oh, there’s
Cousin George!” Or one of her people does something
which betrays some little human weakness or some little
human strength and you say, “Why, that’s just the way
Frank Sim-
mons does that
appearance m
the Norris’s
morning mail.
And so it
went. The list
of available
m a g a z i n e s
grew shorter.
The pile of
those inhuman -
1 y polite,
printed rejec-
t i o n slips
mounted. And
one fine day,
the story came
back, declined
by the twenty-
sixth editor.
Here comes
in the touch of
genius. Some
writers would
have been dis-
couraged and
given up after
the tenth re-
jection, say.
Most would
have stopped
at the twen-
tieth. Certainly
any, other than
Mr. Norris,
would have
been resigned
at the twenty-
sixth. But not
he. Instead, he pulled out a fresh
envelope and sent it back to the
Atlantic Monthly!
Irrational? Yes, but successful.
The editor was delighted with Mrs.
Norris’s story and would print it
gladly in an early issue. And short-
ly after it appeared there came a let-
ter from the editor of McClure's say-
ing how much he enjoyed the story and how happy he would
have been to have printed it. Did Mrs. Norris have anything
else which he might see?
Mr. Norris admitted that there was a certain grim satis-
faction in referring to his list and writing the editor of
McClure's that this particular story had been sent him on
May 10th and returned on May 29th.
That was only the beginning. Other stories followed, and
then novels. You have seen many of them in pictures: The
Story of Julia Page, The Heart of Rachel, Harriett and the
Piper. And now the Goldwyn company, which has produced
a majority of Mrs. Norris’s tales, has bought Sis and The
The Morris home is
a place of pleasant
retirement inhere one
so inclined may
count his world more
or less well lost.
Witness Mr. and Mrs.
Norris and their boys
very thing.”
Such is the
quality that
Mrs. Norris’s
people have,
and when the
producers do
succeed in
catching it and
vitalizing it on
the screen, it
is the thing
which makes a
picture real
and vivid rath-
er than stupid
and artificial.
Unfortunate-
ly, it is not
easy to do, and
more than once
Mrs. Norris has
had to suffer
through the
bungling adap-
tation and di-
rection of some
one of her
stories.
When we
wandered away
from a dinner
table to have a
bit of a talk
with Mr. Nor-
ris, seeking
some facts on
which to base
this report, Mrs. Norris warned him
to be cautious; told him to remember
that pictures were a source of bread
and butter to them. She did not
mean to gloss facts so as not to run
any risk of killing the goose which
lays the golden egg. She is too fine
and direct a woman to take refuge
in that sort of subterfuge. She no
doubt feels that if she takes the producer’s cheque with the
knowledge that she has of his ways, she has rather barred
herself from violent objections when he continues to run
true to form.
But she has a right to be annoyed. It must be an enor-
mously trying thing to pour your imagination and your obser-
vation into a character or an incident until you have made
it as truthful as you can, and then sit by and watch some
shoddy-minded soul, whose chief claim to directorship is
that he wears leather puttees, play havoc with your labors.
Mr. Norris told us two instances of this which had hap-
pened to stories by Mrs. Norris. (Continued on page 53)
great was M r.
Norris's surprise
when he was asked
his price for the pic-
ture rights to “ Brass ”
that he wired back.
“ Anything over five
dollars ”
36
Film play
The Serious Side of the Women of the Screen
The Third Article of the Series by Gladys Hall
When I waved my wand at her and besought her to discuss
profundities , Madge Kennedy said: “The so-called ‘new’
ivoman is the ‘old’ woman, the woman we have always known,
the ivoman of all the ages, with a few more shackles thrown
off, and with her eyes looking more clearly to the light’’
I N other words, Miss
Kennedy does not be-
lieve that the Feminist,
or Modernist, or ‘New’
Woman is a departure from
her sister- women, from her
predecessors, but simply an
evolution. There is no dif-
ferentiation of species ;
there is normal develop-
ment — growth.
With Miss* Kennedy fem-
inism is neither a fad, a
cult, a theory nor a sect. It
is a part of herself — of her
beliefs. And she lives, as
few people do, harmonious-
ly with her beliefs. Come
to think of it, she is about
the most harmonious person
I know. Harmonious. . . .1
have happened upon the
adjective, and I find it sin-
gularly appropriate.
As a matter of fact, she
is one of the women who,
more than any other, could
sow belief in feminism even
in the fields of the enemy.
That is because she is ra-
tionalistic. She has no
trace of the extremist, no
trace of the faddist, no ear-
mark of the Modernist.
When she explains her
viewpoint, you see her
viewpoint. You may not always agree with it, although you
almost always do, but you see it, at any rate. She is thor-
oughly normal, wholly tolerant, catholic in her sympathies
and tastes and judgments, informed as well as informative.
There is thought back of her talk.
Religion back of her reason.
Backbone to her beliefs.
I attacked origins and sources. I asked her about her
early influences, environment; the forces bending the twig
that so might the tree incline.
“My mother,” Miss Ken-
nedy said, “did a very pre-
cious thing for me. She gave
me self-confidence. Self-reli-
ance, §he made me see that
life, arid what I made of it,
’ was up to me. No one else.
From my earliest childhood I
knew, and grew to know bet-
ter, that I must depend upon
myself. In other words, that
/ was 1, an entity.
“I had responsibilities
placed upon me. I think I always felt quite as responsible
for my mother, for her safety and well-being and comfort as
she did for me and mine. My father died when I was
extremely young, and mother and I were very much alone.
Her whole life was lived for me; we were confidantes, pals,
friends, as well as mother
and daughter.
“We always talked things
over. She never issued an
order. She simply stated
her opinion, upon which I
could form my own.
“My conclusions were
my own.
“She made me feel that
she trusted me. She made
me know that there is a
right way and a wrong
way, and that she knew I
would adhere to the for-
mer.
“Well, that is one thing
— self-reliance.
“Another important fac-
tor in the development of
any person, it seems to me,
is the elimination of fear.
Fear is one of the great
handicaps. Fear of little
things. Futile fear. Fear
of this thing happening, or
of that thing happening.
Most of them nameless,
formless things. Most of
them things which never
materialize save in the rid-
den mind of the individual.
People are constantly fear-
ing something that may
happen.
“When it became neces-
sary for me to go on the
stage in order to earn my living — and it was necessary — I
found my early training stood me in good stead. I have
never had a chaperone.
“Mother has often gone with me on tours and such things,
but only because she wanted to go so that we might be
together, and never because she felt that she should.
“I’ve made my own contracts, accepted or refused my own
offers. I’ve also made my, own mistakes.
“Sometimes I think that something beautiful has taken
care of me — perhaps it is a
trace of mysticism,- so much a
force since the war, that
makes me feel this way. My
marriage, for instance — some-
thing beautiful must have
kept me for that. Most girls
—boys, too, I suppose — pass
through a very dangerous
age. Between seventeen and
twenty, let us say.
“Girls fall in love, or
think they fall in love. They
con- (Continued on page 56)
Photograph by Kenneth Alexander
Madge Kennedy — A Film Feminist
Film-fans and theatregoers en masse have associated the
players of the silent and spoken drama with the superficial
sparkle of life — or with the parts they have played. The
Thinker back of Terpsichore has seldom been made mani-
fest. But , as a matter of fact , there are a great many
sincere and thoughtful and earnest persons on the Screen
today ; women who have labored ivith brain as tvell as
body , who have thought and philosophized and developed ,
vitally and significantly. Among these, one of the most earn-
est, the most thoughtful, the most conscientious, and the
mtist worth-while, sociologically, personally and profession-
ally is Madge Kennedy, in private life Mrs. Harold Bolster
June, 1922
37
Rex Ingram Films a Famous Romance
ANTHONY HOPE’S NOVEL, “THE PRISONER OF ZENDA,” IS SCREENED WITH A CAST INCLUD-
ING LEWIS STONE, ALICE TERRY, ROBERT EDESON, STUART HOLMES AND BARBARA LA MARR
Left: The com par-
ions of King Ru-
dolph of Ruritania
meet Rudolph Ras -
sendyl, a your.g
Englishman , and
are struck by his
resemblance to
their sovereign
Right: Rassendyl . the mas-
querader, is crowned amid
public rejoicing and the first
to give him the oath of alle-
giance is the king's cousin .
Princess Fla via, with whom
he falls madly in love and
. to whom he announces his
betrothal at a royal ball
t
Above: The King drinks a
glass of wine which has been
drugged by an agent of
Black Michael, who plans to
pass off Rassendyl as the
King and seize the throne
for himself. Stupefied , the
King is imprisoned in the
hunting lodge at Zenda
38
F ilm play
What a Lucky Chap I Am
HERE AT LAST IS A PLAYER WHO DOES NOT BELIEVE THAT IIE IS
ENTIRELY RESPONSIBLE FOR HIS OWN SUCCESS
By Edward J. Burns
O NCE, only once, have 1
played the part of the
minister on the screen.
It was in Male and Female .
As a result, within the next
month, I had at least a dozen
requests to perform marriages,
twenty-six offers to conduct
christenings and two appeals to
deliver the final ceremonies at
funerals. The proponents of
these various requests were
good enough to say that 1 was
the ministerial type so true to
life on the screen that they
naturally thought I was an or-
dained clergyman, a compli-
ment that I do appreciate de-
spite the embarrassing compli-
cations that resulted. However.
I have not played in a minis-
terial role since and I
do not anticipate do-
ing so again in the
near future. For one
thing my face has
grown a hit too round
since the time I
played in that Cecil
B. DeMille produc-
tion, and for another,
1 have a sneaking
feeling that if I were
to don the garh I
should appear loo
hale and healthy for
one supposed to have
been worn to the mar-
row by a life of serv-
ice and seif sacrifice
for others.
I mention this fact
by way of explanation
for my initial venture
into print. This is
the firs! article I have
ever written for any
publication and it was
only after much per-
suasion that I dared
to try my hand at it. I fear that if I should have to make
literary efiort a practice I would be shown up in an ill-filled
rote.
Looking back on my earlier years in the Philadelphia
schools and in the Orpheum Stock Company, I can appre-
ciate the good fortune the years have brought. Only re-
cently I ran across a former schoolmate whom I had not
seen for a decade; and when I described my present work
opposite such stars as Katherine MacDonald, he exclaimed
involuntarily :
“Gee, what a lucky chap you
are!”
He’s right. There was a lot of
hard work in that preliminary
training course in stock and in-
tensive study. While we were
playing East Lynne one week, we
would be rehearsing The Lion and
the Mouse for the next, and at the
same time reading script for pro-
ductions to be selected for two
weeks later. We left the theatre
long after the last theatre-goers
had bolted the windows and put
out the lights of their homes and
had to be on deck a little before
the first noontime edition of the
afternoon dailies.
Behind that work was undoubt-
edly a lucky star, because others
who have worked just as hard
have never had the
same opportunity to
get ahead.
When the chance
came I broke into mo-
tion pictures because
it seemed that the
screen was an unde-
veloped prodigy with
immense latent power.
Nothing that has oc-
curred since has
caused me to alter
this belief, and even
today I am convinced
that, despite the mag-
nitude of the motion
picture industry as it
exists, it is only a
forerunner of what it
is going to be.
Since that lime fol-
ium' has been kind to
me. I have drifted
front one role right
into another. Each
part has called for
distinctive characteri-
zation, and this wide
range ol experience has been a boon that could not have been
purchased at any price. I have already spoken of my tute-
lage under Cecil B. DeMille. Then I supported Wallace
Keid in The Love Burglar, played the part of a doctor in
To V lease One If oman , had a leading role as publisher’s son
in The IToman's Side, starring Katherine MacDonald, and m\
latest picture is with George Arliss.
In all my screen career I have had an aversion to playing
only one kind of character: the man who won't stand up for
his convictions. I can't act the (Continued on page 52)
Amove: Kduatd Bums. Below: Mr. Burns amt Katherine MacDonald in a scene
from "The If minin' s Side "
June , 19 22
39
\
Upper Left: Guy Bates Post as Leder ,
■who impersonates Chilcote. Upper
Center: Barbara Tennant as Robins ,
Leder* s landlady. Upper Right: Guy
Bates Post as Chilcote , arrogant , /as-
tidious , powerful. Center: Mr. Pas/
and Marcia Manon , as Chilcote and
Lady Astrupp. Lower Left: Kenneth
Gibson as Blessington, Chilcote* s secpe-'
tary. Lower Center: Ruth Sinclair as
Eve, the. wife. Lower Right: Herbert
Standing as Fraide, leader of the
House of Commons
The Characters in “ The
Masquerader Sketched by Frank Geritz
40
F ilm play
By Arthur Denison
W E SEE that the generous editor has given us an
elaborate heading all our own this month. The only
difficulty with the drawing is that there are too many
sheep and too few goats. If things keep on at their present
rate, we shall have to consult the artist and have the sheep
pen cut down to about the size of a bird-cage, while the
hostelry for the goats will have to have annexes built which
will extend across this page and the next.
We have seen ten feature pictures and two comedies this
month. The comedies are quite all right. One feature, Gypsy
Passion , has reason to hold up its head unashamed. And
that is a foreign production. One other feature, Man to Man ,
might possibly slip by on the score of its swiftly moving
physical action. As to the others, we can see no possible
excuse for their ever having been made.
After watching The Crimson Challenge and Find the
Woman during the same morning we were barely able to
crawl to the hospitable house of a friend of ours who had
the foresight to observe the impending shadow of Mr. Vol-
stead and to be warned by it. Thanks to his kindness we
were able to get home.
We thought that we had touched bottom last month, but
apparently the abyss of producers’ stupidity has no bottom.
We have gone down so far that last month’s resting place
seems a most desirable and elevated spot.
Who knows what the matter is ? Have the producers come
to the ends of their pitiful strings? Or are they waiting for
Mr. Hays to tell tj^em what kind of pictures to make? We
don’t know.
Gypsy Passion — Vitagraph
Probably, when all is said and done, the story of Gypsy
Passion is not of any great importance. It is a literal enough
tale; but since it deals with a kind of life with which we are
not very familiar in this country — gypsies and their back-
ground of legend anu superstition — we are inclined to look
upon it as a figment of a romantic imagination.
Indeed, it came out of the romantic mind of Jean Richepin,
and it is bolstered with improbabilities and coincidences
which somewhat strain credulity. The story relates how a
gypsy woman of great age and great learning in her peculiar
lore lives a hand-to-mouth existence among the ruins of a castle
on the estate of a French nobleman. With her are her grand-
daughter and an uncannily human bear — the remaining sym-
bol of her nomadic, fortune-telling days.
They are permitted to continue in this haphazard tenantry
because of the nobleman’s scholarly interest in gypsy matters.
And also because he has, on behalf of learning, surreptitiously
borrowed from the old woman a number of ancient manu-
scripts which were her most prized possessions.
That is the background for the story’s action which has to
do with the recovery of her treasured writings and the ulti-
mate marriage of her granddaughter to the adopted heir of
the nobleman’s house, a conclusion against which the gypsy
woman battled with all her wits and her fury until a confes-
sion from the count established the youth as himself a gypsy,
and the translation of some esoteric ciphers proved him the
appointed leader of the old woman’s gypsy tribe.
Romantic enough as a story, yes. Unbelievable, perhaps,
if one does not go in for fancy. But the whole of it is made
extraordinarily vivid and impressive by memorably fine
acting.
Richepin himself, turned actor for the moment, plays the
count, and he is definitely and authentically the aristocrat.
He is charming to look at and delightful to watch, with his
nervous gestures, his intelligent, eager response to the emo-
tional demands which the part makes upon him. Ivor
Novello, a young Englishman whose present chief claim to
fame is that he wrote Keep the Home Fires Burning , and a
dusky Latin beauty, rather ridiculously named Desdemona
“Man to Man”
Re jane, “Gypsy Passion”
“ Find the Woman”
June, 19 22
41
Mazza, play the young lovers in a pleasingly restrained
fashion.
Bui what illuminates ihc whole picture is the acting of
Madame Rejane as the old gypsy.
There is a certain extrinsic, sentimental interest in the fact
that she died a few days after the completion of this picture,
and that just as the phonograph can still make your rooms
ring with the living voice of Caruso, so, too, can the pictures
bring before you the almost perfect semblance of a living,
breathing woman who is now vanished from the world.
But Rejane’s performance is not in need of any such facti-
tious support. It is a thing of rare beauty; elemental in its
grasp and portrayal of the old woman’s tragedies and her
joys. You will seldom see such perfect mastery of the art
of pantomime. What hands she had, expressive beyond
words; what a face, what eyes, and what a smile!
If you find pleasure in sitting before an actress who has
mastered her art, here is a joyous opportunity for you. And
we wish lhat all those blond flappers who, because they
chance to have a pretty face, imagine themselves actresses,
might go again and again to this picture and try and absorb
a little of Madame Rejane’s abundant artistry. It is rather
tragic that she made only this one appearance in pictures
when there is such need of her example.
The Heart Specialist — Realart
The Heart Specialist is a trivial little picture which prob-
ably will not hurt anyone very much. The attitude of its
producers must be rather like that of the makers of those
muchly-advertised pre-digested breakfast foods. They appar-
ently decided to take all the mental cereals which were to go
into it and do all the hard digestive work themselves, leaving
only the little simple, obvious result for future audiences to
swallow. That was kind of them, but we don’t imagine that
it was particularly difficult. There must have been a blight
abroad in the land where those cereals were grown.
Facetiously, we say that it probably will not hurt anyone.
And it will not so long as one maintains the ability to dis-
miss this kind of froth with either a laugh or an exclamation
of disgust. Seriously, we say that this story and all of a
kindred falsity have the capacity for working a great deal of
evil.
For we doubt if any mind can be continually saccharine-
proof, and it seems to us only a question of time before the
sloppy, sentimental, muddled thinking, the unreal people and
their unreal actions, of such pictures as this, must have their
devastating effect on the minds of their beholders.
This particular picture is all about a young newspaper
reporter of the allegedly gentler sex who pretends lhat she
escaped from a harem so lhat she in igi.t gather a feature story
for her newspaper.
It would be excellent entertainment for morons.
Pay Day — First National
We yelled our head off in riotous laughter at Mr. Chaplin
in Fay Day. And we thought how genuine, how great an
artist he is. How much better one’s time was spent in
watching this short comedy than in the seeing of those reels
after reels of pretentious piffle which make up the average
so-called feature picture.
So we decided that we had best write a little piece to go
in this space about Mr. Chaplin as an artist. A piece to
prove that, although he was vulgar, his was a kind of vul-
garity of which the world was in great need. To prove that
when people referred to him as being merely ridiculous it
was because they could not distinguish between ridicule and
buffoonery.
But then we chanced to read an article by Heywood Broun,
in some more or less current magazine, dealing with Mr.
Chaplin, in which he said that it was high time that people
who wrote criticisms and reviews left off trying to add proof
to the fact that Mr. Chaplin was a great artist.
That statement of Mr. Broun’s made a particular appeal to
us at the moment. For we had just come from a meeting of
the Association Against National Prohibition and had listened
for three weary hours to impassioned orators furiously trying
to prove how iniquitous the Volstead act is. That did not
need any demonstration to us. We should not have been
there if we had not already believed so.
So we shall restrain our impulse to plunge into adjectives
and prove Mr. Chaplin an artist. When a fact is as firmly
founded as that, there is no need of our trying to construct
critical flying buttresses with which to prop it.
Pay Day is a vastly entertaining picture full of healthy
laughter. Yes, full of healthy guffaws.
Bought and Paid For — Famous Players
If we did not know that William deMille was beyond
accepting a subsidy from anyone, we should suppose that his
mpost recent picture had been bought and paid for by the
Anti-Saloon League. For if the story means anything — and
we imagine that it is meant to — it is an argument against the
drinking of hard liquors.
You are asked to believe that a physically attractive and
prodigally wealthy young man, already the president of a
railroad, offered marriage to an empty-headed but most
attractive telephone operator, who had watched life go by
from the vantage point of the switchboard in a metropolitan
hotel. She was a nice girl, to be sure; one who lived in a
two-by-four Harlem flat with a hard-working sister; one who
cast envious eyes upon the approaching wadded bliss of that
sister and her fat, semi-comic, commercial salesman beau;
one whose idea of Midian luxury would have been a small
string of Tecla pearls.
42
F ilm play
You are asked to believe that, although there was no other
prospect upon her marital horizon, it was with difficulty that
she brought herself to accept the proposal of the young gen-
tleman, remembering always that no suggestion of demerit
was attached to that worthy person.
You are asked to believe, after the young lady became his
wife and simultaneously the proud possessor of all the dia-
monds and real pearls, all the genuine Jacobean furniture,
all the celadon vases, all the grand pianos and lingerie, the
butlers and the ladies-in-waiting that were not at the moment
working in other pictures, that she still maintained an aloof
and unwifely attitude toward the patient husband.
You are asked to believe that she did so because she did
not “love” him, whatever that may mean. Whether she lived
with him as his wife was not made clear. At all events, she
did not “love” him. She said so.
You are asked to believe that because of her unfriendly
demeanor the young man sought a little conviviality and com-
panionship in a* bottle of gin. (The only believable thing
to date.)
You are asked to believe that on coming home one night
a little squiffy — but never more delightful; witness the
^charming scene in which he played with the sister’s baby —
the wife had near hysterics because she had married a drunk-
ard and locked her bedroom, door agaiiist him. Upon which
the infuriated husband seized a poker about as substantial as
a large knitting needle and attacked the massive, oaken door.
You are asked to believe that after a vicious jab or two
the panel was burst through, revealing that what was sup-
posedly the stoutest of wood bore a strong family resem-
blance to a piece of Beaver Board. After having entered in
this ungentlemanly fashion, the husband muttered something
about having bought and paid for the lady and that by good-
ness gracious he was going to have her. This so annoyed the
icicle wife that she handed him back his wedding ring and
other jeweled knickknacks, put her toothbrush in a black
seal traveling bag and went home to her sister.
Finally, you are asked to believe that after a few weeks of
moping about on the part of both of them, they engaged in
the interchange of some affectionate falsehoods which cul-
minated in the husband promising to give up alcohol if she
would be a good little girl and bring her toys and play in
his backyard again just as she used to do. Having had her
own way about the tippling, she quite naturally agreed, which
was the welcome last course of this little domestic table
d’hote.
To all of which, except the bit about the gin, we say:
Bunk!
Jack Holt played the husband, supposedly as Mr. deMille
told him to play it. Consequently one cannot blame him
for having made the character a courteous, thoughtful gen-
tleman, when, if the story was to have any validity, he should
have made him bestial and unattractive.
Walter Hiers was comical to the extent that you find fat
men with funny faces amusing.
Agnes Ayres wore some beautiful, revealing clothes.
This picture alarms us somewhat. It would seem as if
William deMille had borrowed a page or two and some of
the illustrations out of one of his brother Cecil’s false
primers. We wish that he would rummage in his own library
and find another Miss Lulu Bett. (Continued on page 51 j
These Also Ran
“THE GREEN TEMPTATION.” Betty Compson shows
more signs of having some individuality than she has in any
picture since The Miracle Man. But she is again weighed
down with an absurd story about the pursuit of a stolen jewel;
a story cluttered up with bogus Belgian princes and Scot-
land Yard detectives and which ends in a blaze of imitation
glory at a masked ball, where a lot of elderly ladies and gen-
tlemen who ought to know better run about waving Japanese
lanterns and shouting, “So this is Bohemia!”
“THE BIGAMIST.” An English production starring one
Ivy Duke, who at times almost lived up to the producer’s
assertion that she is the world’s most beautiful woman. But
the story, Oh the story! It made us wish that Mr. Harding
had written something about the Limitation of British Sce-
narios into the conclusions reached by his .Conference. It
went on forever. It was still going on when the picture
stopped. We think the Germans had some inside informa-
tion about this story when they pleaded Gott Strafe England.
“THE CRIMSON CHALLENGE.” Next to the worst pic-
ture we ever saw.
“FIND THE WOMAN.” The worst picture we ever saw.
Your Best Friend
A Rhymed
Come listen , my children , and you shall hear
Of the quaintest photoplay of the year;
“ Your Best Friend ” is the fetching name of it ,
And far from us is the wish to make game of it;
But its roster of actors is strictly one-sided ,
A state of affairs this reviewer derided;
Never yet was a film , in appearances facial ,
So appallingly , starkly , oppressively racial.
We looked and we looked and at last were rewarded
With one gentile face , quite faintly recorded;
But that lonely infringer, in manner enclitic.
Was soon lost in a swarm completely Semitic.
Review
The story, a dramatical film arabesque,
A stepchild, forlorn, of the fine “ Humoresque ,”
Has a moral of treacly and unhealthy sappiness.
One old and well proven: That Riches ain't Happiness;
That one should not seek to find gay, wild abandon
In glasses of sparkling, bright Moet and Chandon ,
When all that one needs for a happy career
Are pretzels and steins of good eight per cent beer.
And, much as it hurts us to make this confession.
The film also proves that an endless procession
Of close-ups of Miss Vera Gordon a-weeping
Make wakefulness pain, but lend pleasure to sleeping.
A. D.
June , 1922
43
Dear Readers of Filmplay:
This month I am going to write about hats. If I covered
the subject completely I would have to use all the pages of
an entire issue of Filmplay — or even more — for this season
there are so many styles of hats that to describe them seems
an endless task. Therefore, I am only going to tell you about
some hats that I have seen recently which have appealed to
me as being very lovely and in extremely good taste.
Before I actually get down to particulars, let me indulge
in a few generalities. Of late I have seen hundreds of young
girls wearing exactly the same kind of hat. They are the
type called the “flapper,” and they affect a style in dress and
hats that marks them as thoroughly as if they wore a uniform.
Their present choice of a hat is a small, soft felt shape,
untrimmed except for a binding of braid on the edge of the
upturned brim. The hat is worn far down over one eye,
somewhat after the manner in which their male counterpart,
the “flipper,” wears his crushed-in fedora. Occasionally I
have seen a girl to whom this style is becoming. But for
every girl who wears the “flapper” hat successfully I have
seen ten others who looked absolutely ludicrous. If they
had sought for a comic effect they could not have been more
successful. On the stage their very appearance would have
sent an audience into gales of laughter. Of course, they do
not realize how funny they look, for they know they are
fashionable.
But is one ever in fashion when they are wearing things
which are in bad taste? I don’t think so. My only object
in beginning my chat on hats, by speaking of the selection of
a popular style, regardless of whether it becomes you or not,
is to aid you in choosing your hats so that they will always be
becoming. When you go to a milliner’s, study your face and
head. Try on many hats. Don’t choose the first thing that
comes along or decide before you ever enter the shop that you
must have a certain hat just because your friend has one
which looks well on her. Be individual. Don’t sink your
personality in a popular mode, which will probably make
you so like the crowd that new acquaintances will not remem-
ber you. Wear the things that express your own individual-
ity. This is especially necessary in the matter of hats, and
this season there are so many styles, all of which are in excel-
lent taste, that one is merely careless if she does not find the
hat that best sets off her own type of beauty.
Personally I prefer small hats because I am small and can
carry them better. Of course, I have a few large ones for
summer wear, but I always think of them as sunshades rather
than hats. I think most women, unless they are very tall,
look better in a close-fitting hat. For dress wear, however,
a large hat is often more effective.
Let me tell you about a few of my own hats for spring. I
have one which I like particularly. It is one emerald green
felt, and it turns up most engagingly in the front. There is
no trimming on it, with the exception of a band of the green
material around the crown. I also have several small hats
of different colors, all made on the same model. They pull
down very closely about my head and have a soft brim which
turns up just as I
want it to. They
are made of silk, twisted into
a soft rope and sewed round
and round, just as a straw
braid would be sewed. They
are the most comfortable hats I have ever owned.
My observation of small hats this season is that
they are all trimmed on one side, if they are trimmed
at all. This one-sided trimming is always so cleverly
arranged, however, that the balance of the hat is not dis-
turbed. One of the loveliest hats I have seen recently is
made of brown Milan straw with a wide brim rolling up from
the face. On the right side it has a large flaring bow of
brown moire ribbon faced with satin.
Another charming hat is of soft gray felt, with a brim
which comes down over the eyes. On the right side of the
brim it carries a cluster of tiny gray birds, beak to beak, as
if they were all feeding from the same dish. Still another
delightful hat is of black taffeta, with an almost negligible
brim that is faced with red straw. To this brim clin'gs an
exotic bird the plumage of which is made entirely of glit-
tering jet sequins.
In the realm of large hats the brims seem to be as broad
as can be worn with ease. As one dressmaker in Paris
argues, since dresses have increased in length hats may
increase in width. One lovely thing which a friend of mine
wears with huge success has a brim which resembles nothing
quite so much as a large pinwheel. It is circled in tones of
red velvet, vivid at the crown and shading into black at the
brim’s edge.
As the rims grow wider so do the crowns grow higher. One
hat of black straw has a brim of surprising width and the
height of the crown, which is of red satin and velvet and gold
galloon, is raised by a bunch of black ostrich feathers which
spring from it. Another large hat of straw is completely
red except for the black cherries which mingle with the cock
feathers that entirely encircle the high crown.
Olive green straw is the material for another hat of
extremely wide and extremely straight brim. Its only trim-
ming is an occasional long green leaf which sprouts out over
the brim from a twist of green velvet which encircles the
crown.
Between the brimless and almost brimless hats and those
whose brims are of the most extreme width lie hundreds of
styles which may suit you. Every woman owes it to herself
to make the utmost of what Nature has given her. There-
fore, she must study herself with infinite patience. Then,
when she knows what she can wear and what she cannot wear,
let her make her deci-
sion. And let her re-
member that her hat
is the first thing seen.
I think the hat is
often the keynote of
the costume.
44
F ilm play
Will Mr. Hays be the David to overcome the Goliath
of Censorship or a Moses to lead Producer and
Patron to the Promised Land? Read below his reply to
Filmplay’s Open Letter
to him in the April number . The discussion
on opposite page is oj timely interest — alto-
gether making an auspicious opening of
Filmplay' s new department
I N ITS issue for April Filmplay published an Open Letter
to Mr. Will Hays. The letter, written by Arthur Deni-
son, called to the attention of Mr. Hays the very great
opportunities and the equally great responsibilities which lie
before him as the newly chosen executive head of the Motion
Picture Producers and Distributors of America, a position
in the motion picture industry analagous to that which Judge
K. M. Landis holds in the realms of organized baseball.
Apparently Mr. Hays was interested in what Mr. Denison
had to say. At his suggestion the editor of Filmplay visited
him at his office and together they talked over what Mr.
Hays hopes to accomplish.
“I have come into the field of pictures,” Mr. Hays said by
way of preamble, “only after a very long and very serious
consideration of the change I was making. As Postmaster-
General of the United States I had a big field of endeavor.
Motion pictures seemed to me a larger field. The poten-
tialities of motion pictures are tremendous. I believe that
they have not been developed. It is tpy aim to develop the
moral and artistic possibilities of the screen to the greatest
degree. It is with the understanding that I should be per-
mitted to attempt this that I became associated with pictures.
My contract carries such a stipulation.
“What I do not know about pictures at present would fill
many large volumes. But I am said to have the ability to
grasp a situation quickly and already, in the few weeks I
have been in my new position, I have learned many things.
I believe that producers are ready and anxious to make pic-
tures as fine artistically and as clean morally as they can be
made. I believe that as pictures are improved within, the
need of any outside censorship will vanish. I am going to
devote the next few years — my best years — to bringing the
standard of pictures to a higher level.
“There are many millions who go to pictures each day.
It is for them I am working. It is for the children who go
to picture theatres. Pictures and picture people are very
real to them.
“Let me give you an example. Recently I took home
three cowboy suits, one for my boy, the others for two of
his friends. They started to put them on. I heard a tre-
mendous argument. They were arguing to see which one of
them would be Bill Hart. One of them finally said, ‘Well,
you be Bill and I'll be Doug!’ That shows the part pictures
are playing in our daily life. A few years ago those boys
wouldn’t have thought of Bill Hart or Doug Fairbanks. They
would have argued over which one was to be Custer, or
Buffalo Bill, or General Sherman, or some other figure of
history. It is for the people that I’m going to work.”
Perhaps part of the speech Mr. Hays made at a great
dinner given in his honor recently also answers the question
as to what he is going to do. At his own suggestion it is
quoted here.
“The motion picture industry accepts the challenge in the
demand of the American public for the highest quality of
art and interest in its entertainment. The industry accepts
ihe challenge in the demand of the American youth that its
pictures shall give them the right kind of entertainment and
instruction. We accept the challenge in the righteous
demand of the American mother that the entertainment and
amusement of that youth be worthy of their value as the most
potent factor in the country’s future.
“By our opportunities are our responsibilities measured.
From him to whom much is given much is required. The
potentialities of the motion picture as a source of amusement
which is necessary, and as a moral influence and educational
factor, are limitless.
“If this is so, and it is undeniable, then just as that oppor-
tunity is great, so in like measure is the responsibility. That
responsibility is accepted. Our association is dedicated to
the aid of the industry in the discharge of these obligations.
It is a task that commands the best efforts of everyone.
“With an appreciation of this industry’s importance in the
business world and a full knowledge of its own great future,
yet in the spirit of humility which recognizes difficulties and
limitations, this association takes up its work in the confidence
born of the knowledge of its earnest purpose, and with the
conviction that we will have the sympathy and co-operation
of all those connected in any way with the industry itself and
the co-operation and sympathy of the public, whose servant
the industry is.”
To sum it all up, Will Hays, by his own statement, is going
to supervise “a house cleaning” in the motion picture indus-
try, a “house cleaning” which the picture-going public
demands.
June , 1922
45
What W ould You Do if You Had Mr. Hays Job?
The Forum Editor of Filmplay:
As I understand Mr. Hays’ job from the rather meager
reports of what he has been chosen to do published in the
daily press, his powers are limitless. He is the head of the
fourth greatest industry. What he says goes.
If I had Mr. Hays’ job and it is all I think it is, I would
first of all strive for good taste in pictures. By good taste
1 mean much more than the phrase generally implies. I
mean good taste in stories, good taste in their adaptation for
the screen, good taste in their acting and direction. I would
make an effort to see that stories reproduced life as it is,
not as it exists in the mind of some director or scenario
writer. I would abolish impossible situations; I would
demand real actors; I would — and this is the most important
thing, the keystone of all my demands— I would keep in
mind the fact that screen audiences have intelligence; that
they can’t be fooled all the time. I would not forget that
pictures are made to make money,
but I would keep to my belief that
they will not make money if they
are made with no other end in
view. George K. Ransome.
Forum Editor Filmplay:
If I had Mr. Hays’ job I would
see to it that the small towns
which (although they never get
pictures until the big cities have
tired of them) are just as loyal
patrons of the movies as are to be
found anywhere, got prints of the
pictures that were in good condi-
tion. It is very annoying to see a
picture which has done service for
many months and which has been
so cut and scratched that often it
resembles the flickering films of
ten years ago. But it is more
annoying to see a picture in which
perhaps a whole episode of the
action has been cut out simply because it was torn or cut
and the projection machine operator, instead of returning it
to the makers for repairs, has merely joined up the part
before the injured section with the part after it. If I were
Mr. Hays I would see that all film patrons saw the picture
they paid to see. Mary Emma Ryan.
**♦
Dear Forum Editor :
If I were Mr. Will Hays, and had it in my power to cor-
rect all the faults of motion pictures, I would make my first
attacks on press agents who make false statements about
pictures. I recently went to see a picture which was billed
as a super-production, an original story, etc., etc., etc., only
lo find that I had seen the same story infinitely better acted
two or three years ago. Again I was taken in by the absorb-
ing stories about a super-thriller, and on spending my fifty
cents to be thrilled found the situations in the picture so silly
(although they were supposed to be taken seriously) that the
audience, instead of rocking with excitement, swayed with
derisive laughter. Let the ad writers and the publicity men
tel! the truth. If Mr. Flays were the head of a company
making “flivvers” he would not permit them to be described
to the public as Rolls-Royces. If any of the producers with
whom he is associated make “flivvers,” let them advertise
them as “flivvers.” And, judging from the pictures T have
seen recently, “flivvers” arc all the go. II I were Mr. Hays
I’d work for truth in publicity. Audiences will turn down
bad pictures, but there isn’t much they can do in the matter
of false advertising. Louis R. Jacobs.
v v *>
My Dear Sir :
What would I do if I had Will Hays’ job? That is quite
a question for a layman, whose only experience with pictures
is as an observer. Yet since it is hoi polloi who pay the
money, perhaps we have the right occasionally to raise our
voice.
My program would be simple and would fall into five
divisions, as follows:
1. I should place an immediate ban on all those stories
which deal with unrelated sex as an end in itself and appar-
ently produced to gratify a cheap desire for exhibitionism; but
I should bar no story which was truthful and honest, no mat-
ter whether pleasant or unpleasant.
2. I should prohibit any fur-
ther splurges from the common
garden variety of press agent.
Their tawdry and false sensation-
alism has, I think, done more
harm to pictures than any other
single cause. I refer to such pat-
ent rot as a picture I saw the other
day of Guy Bates Post putting on
his grease paint to the accompani-
ment of a five-piece orchestra.
Perhaps that was intended to stim-
ulate interest in Mr. Post. In me
it aroused only nausea.
3. I should exert myself in
every reasonable way to make it
possible and agreeable for authors
to work in close collaboration
with scenario winters and directors
in the production of their stories.
4. Which would mean that I
should have to clear the scenario
departments of their vast numbers
of incompetents; and
5. I should have to make the earnest effort to induce men
and women of taste, intelligence and creative ability to
become directors, so that the field of directorship might no
longer be what it is at present, a kind of Artistic County
Farm where earnest, but creatively poverty-stricken souls are
made welcome and comfortable.
That is a large program, but once it got swinging into
action, I think the improvement would be noticeable and
immediate. Franklin Lancaster.
Forum Editor :
Dear Sir: If I had Mr. Will Hays’ job I would attempt
the impossible. I would endeavor lo curb the yellow jour-
nals of this country in ibe matter of llic material they publish
about picture stars. I would try to make it impossible for
them to make a scandal out of whole cloth. I would try to
stop them from maligning certain players in films simply
because the actions of a few members of the screen colony
in Hollywood are no better than they should be. I would
lake llic slain off the motion picture profession as a whole
and I would keep it off. I admire Filmplay for llic stand it
has taken in presenting llic truth about Hollywood and the
movie colony. If ihe people who run lo read llic scandals in
l lie movie world would look about them they would probably
find just as much lo interest their peculiar types of mind in
theii: own circles. Laura B. Benson.
In order to make The Forum interesting
and important , Filmplay will conduct a
monthly Contest, open to all readers.
Topics will be suggested for each month ,
the one for July , “ What Would You Do If
You Had Mr. Hays’ Job?” and for August ,
“ Things I Don’t Like in Moving Pictures”
— such as story , scenes, titles, characters,
or any phase of this great and intimate
industry. ( See page 56.) For the best arti-
cle we will pay $5.00, to the second $3.00,
and to the third $2.00, and to all others
accepted and used will pay $1.00 each.
Write clearly on one side of sheet only.
Unused articles returned only when re-
quested and accompanied by self-addressed
stamped envelope. Address Forum Editor
Filmplay, 15 E. 40th St., New York City
46
F ilm play
Out of the West
\
I
Bert Lytell becomes a sailor
T HE most welcome news, particu-
larly to the players, which can he
reported from Los Angeles for
this month, is that the long- threatened
resumption of activity seems to be at
hand. A lot of our better -known pic-
ture actors and actresses have been out
of jobs for so long a time that
they will have to be personally in-
troduced to a pay check or they
will never recognize it.
But relief is in sight. At the
beginning of this month the Uni-
versal studios had thirteen com-
panies at work — and no one
looked upon that fact as a jinx,
either — eleven companies were
busy at the Lasky plant, seven at
Fox, five af Ince, four at Vita-
graph and proportionate numbers
at the smaller studios. This be-
gins to look like the halcyon times
of two and three years ago.
Mary Pickford and Douglas
Fairbanks have returned from
New York, where they went to
defend the suit which a Mrs. Wil-
kenning brought for the third time
attempting to collect a commis-
sion which she claimed was due
her for obtaining a starring con-
tract for Mary several years ago
when she was still a star for
Famous Players. This time the
WHAT’S GOING ON IN THE HOLLY-
WOOD STUDIOS
By Dennis McCauley
case was tried ‘in the Federal court and the decision was in
Mary’s favor.
With her legal complications safely packed away in moth
halls, Miss Pickford at once turned her attention to her next
production, which will be a new picturization of one of her
earlier successes, T ess of the Storm Country . It will be directed
by John Robertson, perhaps the most uniformly successful
director that the Paramount company has. He has been loaned
for this one production only.
Fairbanks is already hard at work on the preliminaries for
his romantic story out of the middle ages, in
which he will play an heroic role, which is
a combination of the Earl of Huntington
and Robin Hood. It is said that the sets for
this film will be even larger than those for
Intolerance , which cluttered up the great-
er part of Hollywood’s natural scenery
for many years, or for Universal’s
Foolish Wives , which similarly de-
faced the hills at Del Monte. And the
production and costuming will exceed
the lavishness of the Three Musketeers.
All the members of the cast are learn-
ing to fence and act and talk like a lot
of robbers out of Sherwood Forest.
Among them are Enid Bennett, who
hasn’t been seen in pictures for a long
time, and who will play Maid Marian;
Wallace Beery, who should make a
doughty Richard the Lion Hearted; Sam
Center: George Walsh meets Charlie Paddock ,
champion sprinter. Below: Baby Peggy and
one of her supporting company
June, 1922
47
the first of these will commence immediately after the
publication of the tale in novel form.
After having played a featured role in Bought and Paid
For, Jack Holt is again to be starred individually. He
will appear in North of the Rio Grande, a picturization
de Grasse, and Paul Dickey, the playwright, who will give up
writing stage villains and act one for pictures. He will be the
evil Guy of Gisborne.
Speaking of Mr. Fairbanks reminds us that Marguerite de la
Motte, who played leading roles so effectively with him in
The Mark of Zoro and the Three Musketeers, is a star in her
own right now. She has just finished The Brotherhood of
Hate and is beginning A Man of Action, both of which are
being made at the Ince studio. If she doesn’t go the way of most
star flesh, Miss de la Motte ought to be an extremely interesting
feature player.
Clara Kimball Young, who has been traipsing about the coun-
try making personal appearances in connection with her pic-
tures, has returned to Hollywood and has made arrangements
with the Metro company to release her future stories. It is
generally the rule that making personal bows just before your
film goes on is the last refuge of the defeated player. But
apparently Miss Young plans to stage a come-back. Given the
proper kind of stories, there is no reason why she should not.
Anita Stewart, accompanied by her husband and a handbag
full of excess baggage checks, has gone East on a vacation.
They, including the checks, will lake a brief look at the gayelies
of New Orleans and Palm Beach before going to
New York. Miss Stewart has just finished Rose
of the Sea, in which her husband played the
leading part. It was directed by Fred Niblo,
once upon a time the brother-in-law of George
M. Cohan, but more recently the husband of
Enid Bennett. Kathleen Norris alone could
keep the Goldwyn company in stories if I hey
do not produce any faster than they have in
the past year. However, willi the reorgani-
zation of that company, which was recently
accomplished, a revival of production is
looked for. The most recent purchases
from the Norris library are Sis and The
Happiest Night of Her Life. Filming of
Center: Arthur Rankin and Jackie Cvogan. Be-
low: Johnny Harr on and Marjorie Daw tell Marshall
Neilan that they are not engaged
Jack Dempsey is introduced to Robinson
Crusoe ( Harry Myers)
of the Vingic Roe novel Val of Para-
dise. Bebe Daniels, no longer a star
since Realart Pictures died a welcome
death, plays the supporting part.
William deMille is back in town-
after his fourth trip to New York
in as many months. He brought
with him the completed film ver-
sion of the successful Rachel
Cr others play, Nice People. Bebe
Daniels will play the role made
famous on the stage by Francine
Larrimore, along with Wallace
Reid, Conrad Nagel and Wanda
Hawley, also salvaged from the
wreck of the Realart program.
While her husband labors daily
on the film version of The Mas-
quer ad er . Mrs. Guy ’Bates Post,
otherwise known as A dele Ritchie,
declines to sit quiescently at home.
Each evening she journeys to Pasa-
dena, where she has joined the
Community Players, and will make
her bow to Pacific Coast theatre-
goers as Annabel le, in Clare Kum-
mer’s graceful comedy, Good Gra-
cious Annabelle.
The famous Mr. Valentino is
making his gory way through a pic-
turization of Ibanez’s Blood and
Sand. June Mathis, who made the
adaptation of the Four Horsemen,
in which (Continued on page 56)
48
F ' ilmplay
East Coast Activities
By Leo Leary
screen
Vincent Coleman and Mae Murray stage a
scene which will never reach the
T HE past month has been a gay
one for all the motion picture
celebrities in New York. A
series of dances and dinners, all of
them of peculiar interest to members
of the industry, have brought them to-
gether on several momentous occasions.
Of chief interest was the great din-
ner given to Will Hays, at which the
former Postmaster-General was wel-
comed to his new post as executive
head of the industry. The great ball-
room at the Hotel Astor was crowded
to the walls with more than 1,100
diners. At the speakers’ table were
many men prominent in public life as
well as representatives of the world of
films. An innovation was the presence
at the speakers’ table of several women
screen stars, among them Mae Murray,
Constance Talmadge, Corinne Griffith
and Betty Blythe. John Emerson acted
as toastmaster.*
In the list of those who made
speeches welcoming Mr. Hays were
John F. Hylan, Mayor of New York; William Randolph Hearst,
Adolph Zukor and Arthur Brisbane.* Another party which brought
together all of the movie celebrities in and about New York was the
ball given by the Paramount Club of the Famous Players-Lasky Cor-
poration, at the Hotel Commodore, to celebrate the tenth year of the
feature motion picture. One of the most interesting features of the evening
was a speech by Adolph Zukor, which was distributed by radio to all of the
other Paramount Clubs throughout the country. These clubs
are located in all Paramount exchanges, and they all had par-
ties on the same night.
Practically the same crowd which attended the Paramount
Ball and the Hays dinner was present at the Sixty Club Ball,
given for the benefit of the Actors’ Fund, which provides for
the care of aged and disabled players. Mary and Doug, who
were in town at that time, were prominent in a box, which they
shared with Mary’s mother.
All of the screen world, as well as those who are interested
in pictures without actually being members of the industry,
have been finding great enjoyment in Charlie Chaplin’s book,
My Trip Abroad , which has just been published by Harper’s.
In it Charlie tells, in his own cheerful way, the story of his
recent trip to England, his old home, and intersperses the nar-
rative with incidents of the trip which are as droll as any of
his comedies. Through the pages flash the great ones of the
screen as well as the leaders in the fields of
art, literature and politics. All of them
are presented in such an intimate way
that they at once become very human.
Incidentally, it gives the most com-
plete picture of Charlie himself that
I have ever come across, presenting as
it does his serious side as well as the
side which the public knows so well.
A new leading lady recently
appeared on the screen. She is
Pauline Garon, who plays opposite
Richard Barthelmess in Sonny, the
adaptation of George V. Hobart’s
play, which he has just completed.
She has done some screen work be-
fore and has been seen all of this
season in the stage play, Lilies of the
Field.
One often thinks that it would be
a fine thing to be a movie star, but
( Continued on
page 51)
Above: Corinne Griffith
leaves a greeting.
Right: Pauline Garon ,
Dick Barthelmess 9 neu
leading lady
June , 1922
49
RULES FOR MOVIE FANS
THE BOX-OFFICE GETS OUR MONEY WHEN—
1. If there is a long line at the box-office, pay for your seats with
a twenty-dollar bill — and keep ’em waiting.
2. If you sit in an end seat, keep both feet out in the aisle. Some-
body may trip and break his neck, but his relatives are sure
to see the joke.
3. Dig your knees hard into the seat in front of you. The occupant
of the seat probably needs chiropractic treatment anyway.
4. Always read the sub-titles aloud. Possibly there are blind people
in the audience who will appreciate it.
5. If you come to the show late with a party of fifteen, stand up
in front of your seat until your whole party is comfortably seated.
The lad in back of you can find out the story of the film from
the usher as he leaves the theatre.
6. If you’ve read the novel from which the picture was adapted, keep
saying at intervals of thirty seconds, “Why, it isn’t a bit like the
book!” Your neighbors will be interested.
The New York movie censors banned a picture showing two long-
shoremen eating their lunch, because the censors said they could not
tolerate scenes that showed knives being used.
4* 4* 4*
Opportunity knocks but once.
Opportunity should be a moving picture critic!
4* * *
THEIR FULL NAMES
William Wallace Reid
William Shakespeare Hart
Cecil Blount DeMille
William Churchill deMille
Mae Murray Leonard
The cast of “Nice People”
Pollyanna.
will not, thank goodness, include
♦> 4*
A Podunk exhibitor advertises “ ‘The Miracle Man’ with the Orig-
inal Cast.”
Some day we’re going to write a novel about a Swede who became
a movie, star, and call it “Yens of the Lens.”
4* 4- 4*
Charlie Ray has just completed “Gas, Oil and Water.”
Next we may expect
Wally Reid in “Hart, Schaffner and Marx”
Doug Fairbanks in “Light, Wines and Beer.”
Rudolph Valentino rolls those Sicilian eyes
Mae Murray dances
Doug cleans up his daily dozen of villains
Betty Compson vamps coyly
Bull Montana is billed in the cast
Ditto Lon Chaney.
In her new picture Eileen Percy plays the role of an actress who
is flat broke. '
We know lots of stars who could take on the part without a
make-up and feel perfectly natural in it.
AH THERE, MR. LONGFELLOW!
Ads of movie stars remind us,
We can waste a lot of time
By just hangin ’round behind a
Lengthy ticket-office line.
4*
WHAT EVERY MOVIE FAN KNOWS—
That movie “villains” are always very kindly people in private life,
and innocent-eyed ingenues are really very fast and sophisticated off
the stage;
That all screen comedians are grouchy old crabs when you get to
know ’em;
That it is impossible for a very good-looking girl visitor to walk
through a motion picture studio without being offered an engagement
and thus starting on the road to stardom;
That movie stars always read all the mail from the fans, because
pictures are shown in the magazines catching them in the act of
doing it.
4* 4* 4*
’Tis rumored that Theda Bara is to return to the screen for one
picture.
In other words — back for a short vamp.
❖ 4* ❖
We had a nightmare the other P. M., in which we dreamed that
Ben Turpin played in a picture opposite Marion Davies, with Elsie
Ferguson as commedienne.
4* 4* 4*
Rupert Hughes’ new novel is called “Souls For Sale.”
Don’t you think some of the movie titles are too sensational, Mr.
Hughes?
4* 4* 4*
Hollywood has just opened its first ten-cent store. But of course
none of the stars will be found in it.
50
l i l in p l a y
( Dad will be glad to
tell you everything he
knows about film plays and film
players , provided your questions
ivill prove of general interest to
all readers. Address all com-
munications to “Dad” Filmplay,
15 East 40th Street , New York City)
Jessie Alexander .-*- Jackie Saunders is now
married and has left the screen. Theda Bara
is not acting in the movies at present, al-
though it is rumored she may soon return to
the screen at the head of her own company.
Olive. — Smilin' Through , taken from the
stage play of the same name by Jane Murfin,
is Norma Talmadge's latest picture. In it she
has two leading men, Wyndham Standing and
Harrison Ford.
United . — Anita Loos is the wife of John
Emerson, with whom she has collaborated on
so many screen successes. Their most recent
pictures are Red Hot Romance and Polly of
the Follies, in which Constance Talmadge is
starring.
Dadson . — Address Pauline Frederick care
R-C Studios, Hollywood, Cal.
John Martin . — Bert Lytell has taken a va-
cation from pictures and is now appearing in
New York in a new play by Owen Davis,
called Up the Ladder.
Maddo . — Mary Hay, who is playing in
Marjolaine , a musical version of Pomander
Walk, is Dick Barthelmess’s wife.
Margaret Haymore . — Filmplay has never
published an interview with Wallace Reid by
Gloria Swanson and vice versa. You have
confused this magazine with some other one.
I am glad you like Filmplay and I think you
are going to continue to like it, for the editor
has some treats in store for you.
Grayce . — Call you Gracious the Pest, say
you? Well, almost. Where did you get the
ink? And your friend Bunny must be a
mural painter. Your taste as to stars — Miss
Swanson and Mr. Valentino — strikes us as be-
ing quite all right. Not very original, perhaps,
but unquestionably good. You will see them
together soon in an Elinor Glyn picture called
Vengeance Is Mine.
Just a Western Girl . — Now you be a good
child and take down your Webster and look
carefully under West, etc. You can address
Tom Mix and Buck Jones in care of the Fox
Studios; Hoot.Gibson at the Universal Studios,
all in Hollywood; and Jack Uoxie in care of
the Arrow .Film Company, New York.
Toddie . — John Bowers plays most frequent-
ly in Goldwyn Pictures and 1 think that a let-
ter addressed to him at that studio in Culver
City, California, will reach him. His most
recent picture which T have seen is The Silent
Gall.
Marian . — You can sec Reginald Denny to
your heart's content if you will hunt up a
theatre which is playing the Universal series
called The Leather Pushers. You will find a
review of one of that series in this issue.
Pauline • — Yes, the winners of these beauty
contests sometimes find their way into pic-
tures. You will find two such in a picture
called Beyond the Rainbow. Go see them and
then be assured how much better off you will
be if you slay contentedly at home and help
your mother with the dishes. That may not
be quite as exciting as having a director shout
at you all day, but at least you won’t be
ashamed to tell your grandchildren about it.
Tom . — Vivian Martin is not appearing in
pictures at present. You are right in thinking
that some of her earlier pictures had great
charm, but bad stories and bad direction killed
most of her later efforts. We too wish she
might come back in some pictures properly
suited to her. She is starring in a play in
New York now, and has been for a year.
Ann . — Jack Holt will continue to star for
Paramount. He is the featured player with
Agnes Ayres in Bought and Paid For, and in
his next picture will be starred alone. Yes,
he began with the Universal Company as did
so many others who have since become promi-
nent.
Gerard . — Bertram Grassby is married. His
chief interest, aside from pictures, is his gar-
den, which is one of the loveliest in Holly-
wood. His most recent picture is For the De-
fense, which stars Ethel Clayton.
E. B. L . — You can address Edward Suther-
land at the Los Angeles Athletic Club. He is
a nephew r of both Blanche Ring and Thomas
Meighan. The last picture we saw him in
was Nancy From Nowhere , in which he sup-
ported Bebe Daniels.
Dramatist . — Somerset Maugham did one orig-
inal story for pictures w r hen he was in Holly-
wood last year on his way to the Malay Archi-
pelago. It will probably be filmed shortly.
His play. Our Betters, w r as never done in pic-
tures and probably never will be so long as
we submit to the inanities of censorship.
Frances. — Yes, the Rush Hughes who ap-
pears in The Wallfloiver is the son of Rupert
Hughes wdio wrote the story. He played this
part while in California last summer at home
from college. Yale, I think. So far as I
know he has not appeared before in pictures.
Minty . — Bert Lytell is in New York at pres-
ent taking a vacation. I saw T him for a few
minutes at the Paramount Club ball and he
said he would return to Hollywood in a few
w r eeks. Address him at the Metro Studios.
Roberta . — Pola Negri is at present working
in Berlin, but it is rumored that she will pay
a visit to the United States in the near future.
Her director, Ernest Lubitsch, has only re-
cently returned to Europe after a short stay
in this country. He is at present directing
Miss Negri in a new production.
Helene . — Valentino is lo be a Paramount
star, having signed a contract with Famous
Players to llial effect. He is at present work-
ing on Blood and Sand, a screen version of
the novel by Blaseo Ibanez, whose The Four
Horsemen furnished Rex Ingram with such re-
markable screen material.
George . — Anna Q. Nilsson and Aim Forest
have both returned from England, where they
were working at the Paramount Loudon Stu-
dio. At present they are in New York, but
will return to the coast in the near future.
Jenny. Address Rudolph Valentino at the
Lasky Studio, Hollywood, Cal.
Fritzel . — Priscilla Dean's most recent pic-
ture is Wild Honey. Her next release is Thai
Lass o' Laurie's.
Swedish . — Gloria Swanson's next picture
will be The Gilded Cage. She is still wurking
on the West coast.
Maurice . — Vera Gordon, whose performance
of the Jewish mother in Humoresque estab-
lished her as one of the finest character ac-
tresses of the screen, came to films via the
stage. She first acted in Russia and later
appeared on the Yiddish speaking stage in
New York. Her next release will be Your
Best Friend. She may be addressed in care
of her producers. Warner Brothers, 1600
Broadway, New* York City.
Martin . — Olga Petrova is still acting on the
speaking stage in The White Peacock, a play
from her own pen. Whether or not she will
return to pictures in the near future is a
question, although she has never lost her in-
terest in the screen, and some day plans to
return to films. Her home is at Great Neck,
Long Island, N. Y.
G. G . — Fritzi Ridgeway is leading woman
for Earle Williams in Bring Him In, his new
Vitagraph picture. The story, which is one
of the Royal Canadian Northwest Police, is by
H. H. VanLoan.
Tom . — Mae Murray is again at work on a
picture which has been tentatively named
Broadway Rose. Robert Leonard is, of course,
her director. The picture will be a Metro
release. She may be addressed at the Am-
sterdam Studio, West 44th Street, New York
City.
Ruby . — Betty Francisco, as you have cor-
rectly guessed, was formerly a Follies girl.
She began her picture career about two years
ago, I remember, in a small part in one of
William deMille’s productions, the part of a
nursery governess. Now she has progressed
sufficiently in her w r ork to be cast for impor-
tant roles. One of her recent is the leading
feminine part in Vitagraph’s A Guilty Con-
science, in which Tony Moreno is starred.
Harrison . — Douglas Fairbanks’ next picture
is to be an adaptation of the Robin Hood
legend. In the cast will be Enid Bennett as
Maid Marian; Wallace Beery as Richard the
Lion Hearted; Sam de Grasse as King John,
and Paul Dickey as Guy of Gisborne, the
villain. Doug himself will play the Earl of
Huntington, who becomes Robin Hood.
Curious . — Will Hays’ official title is Presi-
dent of the Motion Picture Producers and Di-
rectors Association. Inc. His position in the
film industry is analogous to that held by
Judge K. M. Landis in organized baseball.
The directors of the association include Wil-
liam Fox. 1). W. Griffith, Mr. Hays, Carl
Laemmle, Marcus Loew, Lewis J. Selznick
and Adolph Zukor.
Maggie . — It was Ferdinand Earle who pro-
duced the screen version of the life of Omar
Khayyam. The picture is now- being edited.
Mr. Earle plans to mdkc a film version of the
Faust legend as his next production.
Indiana. -Many of Booth Tarkinglon’s
stories and plays have reached the screen. T
am surprised that you have never seen any of
them. One of t he most recent screen pro-
ductions was The Conquest of Canaan. Mr.
Tarkinglon’s play Clarence has recently been
purchased by Famous Players and will be
produced under the direction of William
deMille.
Jessica . — In .spile of the fact that Bill Hart
threatened to leave the screen when he mar-
ried Winifred Westover, rumor lias it that Jie
will resume work at his studio before many
weeks have passed and that his first produc-
tion will be a Revolutionary War story.
June , 1922
51
VIEWS ABOUT PREVIEWS
(Continued from page 42)
The Leather Pushers — Universal
We saw one episode of this serial and it
seemed to us, aside from Gypsy Passion, vastly
better stuff than any feature picture we wit-
nessed this month.
We have never cared for serials and conse-
quently we have not seen many, but this is
a new kind to us. Each episode is a complete
short story in itself, although they are all
peopled with the same chief characters. So
you can watch the tenth with pleasure and
understanding and not be at all confused
through your having missed the first nine.
The pictures are adapted from short stories
by H. C. Witwer and have to do with the
trials and tribulations of a gentleman prize-
fighter.
This particular episode relates how the
young lightweight loses the hand of the girl
he loves, but wins a battle with an East Side
heavyweight, knocking the big bruiser out in
the third round, only to find that his over-
zealous manager had wagered the gate that
he would make the heavyweight take the
count in the second.
Reginald Denny gives a thoroughly good
performance as the lightweight and seems to
battle pretty well for an actor.
We wish we knew the name of the girl who
sat at the ringside cheering for her heavy-
weight. She was not on the screen for more
than a minute altogether, and that in a series
of brief flashes. But she gave one of the best
performances we have ever seen in pictures.
We recommend The Leather Pushers to any-
one who cares for a little real life on the
screen. And hunt up the second episode and
watch for that girl. She’s marvelous.
Man to Man — Universal
Man to Man is frank, out-and-out Western
melodrama, full of cattle stealing and mort-
gages on the ranch, culminating in what was
meant to be a thrilling fight between the hero
and the villain among some precipitous rocks.
We thought for a moment that they were going
to vary the formula and have the hero go
crashing over the precipice, leaving the villain
to marry the shrinking heroine, but they ran
true to form.
Through some remarkable bit of Arizona
jiu-jitsu, the hero got himself into the position
of vantage and it was the villain — or was it
perhaps a dummy stuffed in semblance to
him? — who went hurtling the hundreds of feet
down to destruction.
Perhaps our appetite is jaded. Perhaps we
have seen so many bad pictures this month
that we don’t know a good one when it is
unreeled before us. But the climax of this
drama seemed just about as convincingly
fraught with danger as was Eliza's Flight
Across the Ice when we witnessed that ter-
rifying spectacle several years ago under the
auspices of the McClintock Repertory Com-
pany in Darby, Montana. Perhaps not quite
so convincing for, while there was no par-
ticular danger that the cotton wool ice would
give way under Eliza, it was about a four-to-
onc bet that the stage would.
I he producers of Man to Man sought to add
a little variety to the proceedings by having
the story begin in Tahiti, where Harry Carey,
as a derelict of t lie South Seas, look under
his protection the small child of a dying dance
hall girl who had been fatally wounded in
a saloon brawl. But the minute he got tin;
child back to these United Stales lie clapped
her into a convent, where she remained until
along toward the end of the last reel. And
when the poor little girl did come out of her
cloistered seclusion, it was only to have some
unkind person open another door and lead her
into the dark recesses of a ranch house from
which she did not again emerge. So it was a
little obscure to us just what connection she
had with the plot.
Harry Carey has a likeable personality, di-
rect and honest, and he is more than an ordi-
narily good actor.
But we couldn’t care for his picture.
. Is Matrimony a Failure? —
Famous Players
We are not prepared to answer that ques- '
tion, for we have never tried it. But this pic-
ture is.
The central idea is amusing. A young bank
clerk and the daughter of one of a small
town’s most respected families elope on the
silver wedding anniversary of the bride’s
mother and father. They obtain their license
from a deputy county clerk who holds down
the chief clerk’s job each November wdiile
that worthy is off duck hunting. Presently
they learn that the deputy had no authority
to issue their license and that, although well
begun on their honeymoon, they are not in
reality married.
We said the idea was amusing, didn’t we?
So we had better hurry on to the point, which
is that on investigation it is discovered that
not only the bride’s parents, but practically all
their friends who are gathered at their anni-
versary dinner, were likewise married with
licenses got in the month of November. Con-
sequently, all these supposedly respectable folk
have been living together for years in an illicit
relationship. And the discovery gives every
husband the chance he has been howling for to
abandon the wife who has long since nearly
bored him to extinction.
We never saw 7 the play by Leo Ditrichstein,
from which this picture was taken, but we
suppose that it utilized some of the playful,
ironical possibilities which reside in such a
predicament.
But the adapters and the director of this
film apparently would not know an ironical
situation if their most trusted friend gave them
a letter of introduction to one.
They have turned the whole story into a
low comedy brawl. Every figure in it. aside
from the wife, played by Zazu Pitts, and the
bride of Lila Lee, is made into the most
ridiculous caricature.
Here is a story which cries aloud for the
most delicate, intelligent handling, and they go
to work at it with pick axes and shovels. And
with minds whose education in comedy must
have been restricted to Joe Miller's Jest Rook.
An Aria in Ray
O N HIS first strip to New York Charles
Ray had a hotel suite right near a
would-be prima donna who had no con-
sideration for her fellow guests when it came
to exercising her lungs at all times of day and
night. The strain had been almost intolerable
for the young film star by the morning
Arthur S. Kane called around for him. Mr.
Kane called just as the singer was starling on
her most strenuous selection.
“What is it — aria?” Mr. Kane asked.
“No, lonsilitis,” Ray replied.
When Monte Blue appeared in Allan
Dwan’s production “A Perfect Crime,” one of
the stage hands called Jo. who wore spec-
tacles. persisted in mistaking the leading man
for a Mr. Grey, who frequently came to the
studio.
“Poor old Jo,” Mr. Dwan sighed. ‘Tie's so
colorblind lie can't tell ’em apart any more.”
Raoul A. Walsh, who was a painter before
he became a motion picture director, says that
the only comparison between the two is that
both draw money.
EAST COAST ACTIVITIES
(Continued from page 48)
one seldom realizes just how hard the players
must work. Recently, Mae Murray and the
company which supported her in Fascination
w r ere forced to spend an entire Sunday pos-
ing for special pictures. At the end of the
day they were all tired and in moods which
were not exactly gay, when suddenly Vincent
Coleman danced onto the stage in a dress
which he had found in one of the dressing
rooms. Immediately he and Miss Murray-
staged a little - scene which was not in the
picture, a domestic drama entitled, “Who
Wears the Trousers?” The big moment of the
piece is reproduced herewith.
There is great activity at the Cosmopolitan
Studios, where Marion Davies is making
IF hen Knighthood Was in Flower. The cos-
tuming of the piece, the action of which takes
place in Tudor England, is as elaborate as
any ever conceived in an American studio, all
the dresses being copied from portraits by
Holbein, court painter to Henry VIII. You
will remember that the same source furnished
the splendid costumes for the European-made
picture Deception.
Charles and Kathleen Norris, husband and
w r ife, both of whom are novelists of impor-
tance, are at present in New York. Mr. Nor-
ris’s most recent novel. Brass, has been pur-
chased by Warner Brothers, and will be pro-
duced in the near future w r ith the author
working in close collaboration with the di-
rector.
The eastern studios are in general as quiet
as they have been during the past year.
Rumor has it that all Selznick production
work will soon be transferred to the West
Coast, and that will mean that Hollywood will
be more than ever the center of the film uni-
verse. Fox is still active in the East, and is
turning out its usual number of pictures.
With the resignation of Samuel Goldwyn
as the active hedd of the company bearing his
name comes the rumor that Goldwyn will
abolish its distribution organization and will
release all its productions through First Na-
tional. Another recent change in the organ-
izaiton of producing companies is that made
by R-C Pictures, an organization formerly
backed by British capital to a large extent,
and now controlled by American money. These
changes affect the headquarters staffs. Wheth-
er or not R-C will continue with its announced
production program remains to be seen, but
i lie announcement that Pauline Frederick, one
of its stars, would retire from the screen seems
to indicate that radical changes are planned.
As yet Will Hays has made no definite an-
nouncements of the policy lie is to follow, but
as soon as lie gels a firm grasp of the situa-
tion some interesting announcements are to
be expected. Mr. Hay;- is installed in his of-
fices and is studying the problems before him
with great care.
RAMBLING IMPRESSIONS OF
CALIFORNIA
( Continued, front page 10)
A fireplace suffices. It is the land of out of-
doors, of eternal Maytime, orange blossoms
and roses.
The people are less formal, neighbors wel-
come you, and one can be one’s self at all times
— dig in a garden or hang out the wash with-
out losing any social prestige.
People are largely the same the wide
world over, some seeking the glamour and the
frivolities of life, while others like the moun-
tains and the pleasant valleys, heavy with the
perfume of blossoms, the blue sky, the sun-
sets and twilight; and here, as elsewhere, one
can find whatever one seeks.
52
F ilm play
THE JAPANESE CARPET OF
BAGDAD
(Continued from page 13)
sing-song voice of the Japanese interpreter
occupying a diminutive pulpit at one side of
the stage. The latter acted out, both by voice
and gesture, every phase of the picture and
maintained a continuous running comment on
each scene which, translated, ran something
like this :
“Now the Imperial One is alighting from
his glorious limousine. See the four rows of
decorations across his left breast which he
wears as testimony of his great bravery.
{Cheers.) Now he is condescending to ad-
dress the President of France; now he is
walking with the President and members of
the latter’s supreme council toward the monu-
ment where he will lay the decoration — the
greatest honor which the Land 'of Nippon can
bestow on a foreigner — on the grave of an
unknown French soldier! See, now he places
the decoration. ( More cheers .) Let us trust
that the ancestors of the soldier are duly
grateful for the supreme honor conferred upon
their representative by Our Mighty One!
( Tremendous applause.) Now he is going to
the harbor. There in the distance are the
mighty dreadnaughts of the Japanese fleet.
Are you not proud of them? See how their
guns gleam in the sun — they reflect the glories
of our flag. Three cheers for the flag! {They
are given.) How fitting it is that our battle-
ships should be in a foreign port ; are you not
proud?” (So on ad lib. for nearly two hours.)
Not to be outdone by the Western World,
there are two Japanese producing companies
located in a suburb of Tokyo. Their pictures-
however, lack the narrative qualities of our
productions and are more or less illustrated
subtitles. Their camera work is not as fine,
but attention to detail much superior. The
Japanese public’s taste has been whetted by
the fast moving drama (fast in comparison to
their own productions) and therefore have
not merited the success they deserved at the
hands of their own people. Another great
factor in the success of the American pictures
is the foreign locale. The Japanese know
their own country, and therefore, unlike Amer-
icans, rejoice in new scenery, new life, new
customs, and a new people. If they wish their
own drama or a historical pageant they prefer
attending the legitimate theatres or a “recita-
tive”' of history, acted out in one of the large
multi-colored tents found in nearly every large
city.
The “Little Brown Brother” is certainly a
movie “fan” raised to the nth degree. He is
greatly encouraged by his government, who
realizes how greatly he is benefiting thereby.
The land of Lafcadio Hearn is swiftly passing
into the oblivion of the years, giving place to
a keen, wide-awake, progressive nation.
The cry of “Buddha! Buddha! Let not my
spirit become a fish!” is the one link that
binds the past and present together.
WHAT A LUCKY CHAP I AM
( Continued from page 38)
part. A man who is ashamed of his parents,
who won’t fight for the woman he loves or
who cringes beneath an insult represents a
character that it has been impossible for me
to assimilate. Since the portrayal of alien
emotions is part of the art of acting, I sup-
pose I must plead guilty to a failing here.
There’s not much else to tell. I love a
beautiful home with plenty of lawn and am
fortunate enough to have one in Hollywood.
I have a weakness for a high-powered auto-
mobile and a fondness for dogs. My pro-
pensity for afternoon teas is negligible. Out-
side of that I hope I am a normal, healthy
American.
MY SISTER CONSTANCE
(Continued from page 7)
dances swept her into a prominent place in
the critics’ reviews. .
Along about this time we both went into
pictures. Our first work before the camera
was under the direction of Maurice Tourneur.
One day at tea Constance met Henry Hull, a
young actor who had made a great hit in
The Man Who Came Back , a play which ran
for a long time in New York. She discovered
that she had known him long before he had
even thought of going on the stage — when he
had been a law student and had been working
in our father’s law office. He told her that
a playwright named Rachel Crothers was look-
ing for a girl to play the leading feminine
role in a play called 39 East. He himself was
to play the hero. He suggested, although he
warned Constance not to build up her hopes,
that there might be a chance for her to play
the part. Of course she rushed off to see
Miss Crothers, beautifully dressed, as she al-
ways is. In spite of the fact that the girl in
the play was a plain little creature. Miss
Crothers at once visualized Constance in the
part and tried her out in it. Everybody knows
the result. 39 East established my sister as
a popular leading woman and the next logical
step was her starring contract in pictures.
Next year she hopes to give to the stage, but,
inasmuch as she loves pictures, she will never
entirely desert them.
Just now we are having a perfectly good
time together. It is almost thre^ years since
we have been able to live under our roof, for
Constance has been on the coast making her
pictures, and I have been working here in the
East. I don’t like the coast and I don’t be-
lieve I shall ever go there to stay.
You have no idea how r fine it is to have
Constance at home. We live in a big, com-
fortable house — an old New York house which
has been remodeled and brought up-to-date,
but which still retains all of its roominess —
and we are playing to our heart’s content.
Constance loves dogs, and we have two. Her
special pet is Sonny, a huge English sheep
dog, that looks like a gigantic poodle and is
so playful and skittish that his size makes him
look silly. He was brought from England by
our uncle, Basil Miles. The other dog is a
very dignified, very lazy terrier, who is as
serene as Sonny is excitable. They make an
ideal team of pets.
As you might infer when I speak of our
English uncle, we are English descent. Our
English blood comes from our father’s side of
the house. In fact. Constance was named
after Constance Hopkins, an ancestor who, as
the records show, came over on the May-
flower. On our mother’s side we inherit an
Italian strain. Constance and I are hoping to
go to Europe this summer, and if we do we
shall visit, among others, our cousin, the
Princess Camporeale, who is lady-in-waiting
to the dowager Queen of Italy. We are looking
forward to enjoying some of the Italian fes-.
tivals and court gaieties, but Constance, who
has been about much more than I have, in-
sists that there is no place like America, and
I’m sure I’ll agree with her. I almost al-
ways do.
THE POETRY OF DORIS KENYON
(Continued, from page 15)
“I was compelled to hold my head abso-
lutely immobile. If the light shifted for the
fraction of a second the spell would have
been broken, and the deer, released from the
hypnotic light, would have sprung into the
boat, upsetting us. I wasn’t out to kill, so
after a moment the guide quietly paddled
back. As soon as I moved my head the deer
bounded around and crashed through the
woods.
“We went home in the early dawn,” mused
Doris, “and I wrote The Hermit Thrush.
Even as she associates Nature with our hap-
pier moods, she links our more philosophical
ones, too.
“Most of us,” musingly, “have an ambition
in life. Even then, we seem to be seeking,
seeking, seeking. Just what, we don’t know.
Maeterlinck dramatizes this in his beautiful
fantasy, The Blue Bird. But when we seek
in real life it is not a fantasy. It is a discord-
ant part of us.
“The pity of it is that we attribute the ‘it’
we long for to be in the powers of others to
give. And when they fail us, unless we are
introspective and see clearly, our disappoint-
ments tend to form a barricade, distorting the
clarity of our vision and raising mountains
that wear us out. And so, after having the
man in The Seeker disappointed through life,
I find
“ Then to the desert turned his weary feet
The unattained still luring all his soul ,
9 Till his trained eyes athwart the dazzling heat
Beheld at length his goal.
“And there he digged with heart grown old
and seared ,
Until he found the spring , when lo! he stood
Ringed around with mountains he himself had
reared ,
And perished in the solitude.”
Doris’ grateful appreciation of those who
take an interest in her welfare finds adequate
expression only in the music of poetry. One
of her happiest poems is that to Louise Von
Feilitzch.
“Madame Feilitzch,” said Doris, “has done
more to make me what I am than anyone else.
When I first went to Madame to study voice,
I had crooked teeth. I don’t know what got
into them to come that way, but they did.
And I declared a flat NO to all entreaties to
go to a dentist.
“Of course, no one with crooked teeth could
be a success either as an actress or a concert
singer. At least, I don’t think so. But despite
my dreams, the dentist was too much of a
reality. They would have to dissolve and float
into the Land of May Have Been.
“Then Madame took me in hand, and in
that firm, kindly way of hers, had me going
to a dentist before I knew quite what it was
all about. What I suffered those four years
nobody will ever know. But at least the im-
possible was surmounted. I owe everything
to Madame,” mused Doris. “Her spirit and
her teachings have encouraged and inspired
me through years of study and work, eyen
as they do today.”
And this is her appreciation :
“Oh thou who in the shadow of an hour
When in the doubtful scale of blame or praise
Ambition quivered to defeat, couldst raise
A voice of cheer to give a faint heart power;
Oh thou who boldest as a priceless dower
That golden largess which, forsooth, outweighs
The richest gains of those whose empty days
Are passed in ignorance of Truth's white
floiver —
Receive this song as a poor testament
Of what I feel, though yet it can but fail
To give e'en faintest voice to ardors blent
With gratitude, and hope no longer frail ;
For that to me the sweeter faith is lent
Of fullest recompense beyond the Vail.”
So, in glimpsing the background that
enables Doris Kenyon to express herself in
“emotional and imaginative discourse,” one
cannot but think that it is exuberant and
moodily imaginative Youth, abetted with a
rich, sincere nature and a sensitive soul that
vibrates and sings its reactions in the language
of Parnassus.
June, 1922
53
INTRODUCING THE NORRISES
(Continued from, page 35)
In one uf them she had pictured a quiet,
respectable church fair. But the prospect of
anything as unexciting as a religious bazaar
made no appeal lo the movie powers that be.
So, to Mrs. N orris’s horror, she beheld in-
stead a mad county fair, rural and blatant,
with pigs dashing in and out, upsetting pop
stands, against a background of hol-dog
emporiums and hayseeds innocently buying
gilded bricks.
In another scene two brothers had quar-
reled, and the younger, wishing to do his self-
conscious best to smooth things out, reached
out a timorous hand, picking at the sleeve of
I lie annoyed brother. That had no effect.
And so, in a bolder attempt, he gradually ran
his lingers up the brother’s sleeve, hoping
against hope that that little act of timid
friendliness would attract the other’s attention.
That is a little thing, to be sure. Unim-
portant, to a mind without imagining. But,
properly done, it might be both moving and
effective. But it was all too subtle for the
scenario editor, who incidentally used to teach
the gentle art of dramatic construction lo
students at Columbia. It occurred to him
that the brother's attention might be much
better attracted by having a girl near by play-
ing with a frog, which, with a little urging,
might be induced to jump kerplunk onto
brother’s neck.
Small wonder that there are gray hairs in
Mrs. Norris's head.
However, they both think and hope that
things are on the mend, so far as faithfulness
to an author's intentions are concerned. They
believe that a great step in that direction will
be made when the author is allowed to work
in close association with the producer, taking
part in the consultations over the adaptation,
and working in harmony with the director
while the picture is being produced.
Mrs. Norris did just that during several
months last winter, and she plans to follow
the same course when she returns to Holly-
wood again in the near future.
. So far as Brass is concerned, Mr. Norris
seemed hopeful. He feels that the material
for a picture is there, although the customary
amount of incident and action may be lacking.
But he had just come from a talk with the
man wdio w ill produce it and he was heartened
at the intelligence and the insight which the
producer had shown. That gentleman seemed
to realize that a picture might be based on
characterization and, with luck, a definite
spiritual quality, rather than on incessantly
jumpy physical action.
In an ability to do that very thing, Mr.
Norris sees hope for pictures in the future.
Since we believe the same thing, we cheered
loudly.
HOW POLISH IS POLA?
(Continued from, page 24)
In fact, she was his guide through Paris.
And Pola knows her Paris, forward and
backward. She knows all the haunts of the
French aristocracy, for she is herself a count-
ess, although she has discarded the husband
who made her the Countess Dimorski. She
knows the humbler haunts of the French capi-
tal, and she understands the emotions of hoi
polloi, for she was herself a shopgirl not so
many years ago.
In Wertheim’s department store, on the Leip-
ziger Platz in Berlin, back in the days when
there was still a German Empire, there used
to be a little black-haired girl at the ribbon
counter named Paula Negri. Every week she
collected her wages of fifteen marks. That
used to amount to about four dollars in reg-
ular money. Now fifteen marks would not
buy this magazine on the newsstands.
Paula had come to the big city from her
home in Posen, in Poland. As a youngster
she had learned to dance and lo play the
violin, but her accomplishments were so slight
that selling ribbons seemed lo be a more
secure method of making a livelihood. She used
to wish that she could get into the movies,
and where is the girl who does not?
When the armistice plunged the Germans
back into the peaceful pursuits of making en-
tertaining films, a Berlin shopgirl,. Paula Ne-
gri, was one of the first to apply at the
Lubitsch studio for a job. Paula became Pola
on the screen. Her meteoric plunge across the
cinema heavens carried both her and Lutitsch
to world fame. She isn’t exactly beautiful,
but her acting electrified us all in Passion.
It brought her wealth and a titled husband,
and the longest and heaviest rope of real
pearls Ralph Kolin has ever seen-
“She’s more like an American than any Eu-
ropean I met abroad,” said Mr. Kolin. “She
resembles American women in that she knows
how to dress. She’s learning to speak English,
and will be able to carry on a conversation
before long as well as she does in French or
German. But, of course, it seems most nat-
ural to her to speak in Polish, her native
language.
“Her eyes are pitch black, and her hair is
black with a greenish sheen. Her hats are
always white, and usually have feathers on
them, so that she is a study in black and
white.
“She is unassuming, unspoiled, and makes j
excellent company. Of course, she likes at-
tention, and she doesn’t care how many men
there are around, since they always admire her !
and make a fuss over her. Let her appear
publicly in Paris, Berlin or New York and 1
everybody will realize that a personage is |
among those present.”
FROM STUDIO TO DEAD STORAGE
VAULT
(Continued from page 19)
into circulation again at good rentals. Prob-
ably the most frequent reason for digging up a
picture long dead and buried is commercial
greed, in an attempt to benefit by another’s
advertising or reputation. A notable example
of this was the revival of The Three Musket- !
eers made years ago when the publicity cam-
paign for the Fairbanks picture was launched.
The same thing occurred when D. W. Griffith
presented W ay Down East, and when a repe-
tition of it threatened The Tivo Orphans he
changed the title to Orphans of. the Storm.
The one-reel stories which Mr. Griffith made
for Biograph were put out again and his name :
exploited when subsequent effort had estab- !
lished him as the master director.
Shortly after the movies were born, William
S. Hart made a lot of poor-grade Western stuff
when he was a much less finished actor, when
his salary was paltry and his name unknown. !
Today, when he is at the pinnacle of his fame,
his latest production may be running on
Broadway, while a cheap downtown theatre
is showing three ancient films recut and titled
to make one story of feature length. His
name here figures as prominently as else-
where, with nothing to indicate that the pic-
ture wasn’t photographed after the one on
Broadway. Legislation should right these
wrongs.
Four thousand features apart from scenics,
educational, and the like, have been produced
in the last five years. How many can stand
the test of time? With the advancement of
the mechanics and the art of the cinema, let
us hope that some day the screen will have
its classics and film libraries will be instituted
so that what we strive to make perfection
today will be enjoyed by others a hundred
years hence.
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54
Film play
THE RECONSTRUCTION PROBLEM
OF THE MOVIES
(Continued from page 10)
their own. One American concern entered
the Australian field six years ago with six
per cent of the total film business. Today
it has more than sixty per cent of all the
film business and is making plans for a great
expansion in its activities in that field.
Coming nearer home, one finds the American
picture completely enthroned in South and
Central America, although portions of this
section of the globe are yet to be exploited
in any important degree. Brazil, Argentina,
Chile and Uruguay are important buyers of
American films. Four years ago this market
was dominated by French and Italian com-
panies, but the war opened the door of op-
portunity for the Americans by putting a
damper upon the activities of the European
exporters.
What few American films had reached this
market in the days before the war had made
a sorry showing w hen compared with the Euro-
pean pictures, due chiefly to the fact that South
America was looked upon by American firms
as a dumping ground for their cheap and
worn-out films. Most of the pictures offered
for sale in these markets could easily be
classified as junk without danger of libel.
The styles worn by the women players were
old and out-of-date, inasmuch as these were
films which had long since ceased to pos-
sess a market in the United States. As the
gowns and hats worn by the feminine players
are abvays the center of interest with the
senoras and senoritas, these old American
productions made a sorry showing.
During the war it occurred to a few Amer-
ican companies that South America offered
an unrivaled field for the exportation of the
best and most modern pictures, and began
shipping their latest features to Rio de
Janeiro, Buenos Aires, Montevideo and San-
tiago. These productions caught on quickly
and as the supply of European productions
gradually waned there was a quickened de-
mand for the highest grade American pic-
tures. Since that time American films have
predominated and today, with Europe back in
the export field, are so. solidly entrenched as
to defy the efforts of outsiders to displace
their hold upon the market. Leading Latin-
American exhibitors have been quoted freely
as saying that they would not change back
to European productions on any terms. The
great majority of houses show American
pictures exclusively.
This state of affairs so depressed an old-
time exhibitor of Buenos Aires that he de-
termined to restore the good old days when
European films were the feature in every show.
He opened his own theatre and announced
that that portion of the populace which had
grown tired of seeing the American pictures
could now see European pictures exclusively
in his theatre. He did not stay in business
very long, however, as the motion picture pop-
ulace showed little or no disposition to bring
back the old times.
One of the chief reasons for the success
of American pictures has been the quickened
interest felt in American affairs by South
Americans, brought about when the war be-
gan throwing the commercial interests of the
two hemispheres more closely together. An-
other is the lavish manner of producing pic-
tures, the beautiful gowns and clothing worn
by the woman players, and the smoothly mov-
*■ ing, rapid-fire type of story/ The. Latin- Amer-
ican just now .is keenly interested in learning
more about his northern brother, and is a
keen student of all films portraying condi-
tions in domestic and business life. Wild
West stories, Indian life and the crude melo-
dramas of bygone days are no more the pop-
ular pictures in the South American markets.
Instead, the story of big business or high so-
ciety life has established a great vogue. The
South American has discovered that film
styles in America are just as good as those
exhibited in the French films, and this has
been an important factor in the tremendous
growth of the export business with South
America.
South America has approximately 1,200 mo-
tion picture theatres today. These are con-
centrated in Brazil, Argentina and Chile to
a large extent. The northern half of South
America has scarcely been touched, and this
applies largely to all of Central America.
Lack of proper transportation facilities has
been a big handicap to the exploitation of
this territory on a profitable basis. Theatres
are few and far apart, but this condition will
be remedied somewhat within the next few
years.
While it is impossible to estimate accurately
the present needs of Central and South Amer-
ica in the way of theatres, there is no doubt
but that several hundred new theatres are re-
quired and will be built within the next few
years. Any serious attempt to open the un-
developed territories will, of course, make
necessary the building of scores of other
theatres.
Because of the tremendous profits made by
exhibitors in America and Europe, capital has
not been wanting to further the ambitions of
the motion picture industry. Hundreds of
millions will be expended within the next
ten or fifteen years for the erection of theatres
here and abroad.
The elimination of the old-fashioned, hap-
hazard system of doing business in favor of
a more sedate and orderly arrangement, has
enabled the industry as a whole to place it-
self on a sound financial footing. Hard-
headed business men are running the film
business today, and it can truthfully be said
that the industry’s business methods have been
revolutionized in the last few years.
Now that the best business minds of the
European countries are engaged in the ardu-
ous pastime of balancing budgets and cutting
down governmental costs, there is little oppor-
tunity for the physical development of the
motion picture industry. England has made
excellent progress in the work of reducing its
expenditures to conform to its revenues and
will undoubtedly take the lead in the con-
struction of new theatres. France is expected
to follow this leadership and the other nations
will fall into line as their respective problems
are solved.
Central Europe, including Germany, has
approximately 6,000 theatres, catering to a
population of more than 200,000,000. It will
be many years before the full tide of pros-
perity is restored in the numerous small na-
tions developed by the treaty of Versailles,
but the day is not far distant when theatre
building will be undertaken in a limited way.
Czecho-Slovakia, one of the soundest and
most prosperous of the new countries, is ex-
pected to take the leadership in this work.
Eager eyes will be turned toward Russia
and its 150,000,000 people once peace and
order are permanently restored. Hundreds of
theatres will be required to heal the mental
scars of the years of famine, pestilence and
gloom into which the once great nation was
plunged by its adventures into sovietism.
When he has the time and mood the Russian
stands second only to the American as a mo-
tion picture fan. Today he is too busy ward-
ing off hunger and disease to pay a thought
to his amusements.
Although the movies have penetrated into
every civilized corner of the globe, their con-
quest of the world is far from complete. The
potential possibilities of the future are, as one
can readily see, sufficient to stagger the im-
agination of the industry’s leaders.
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June, 1922
55
A MOST FAMILIAR FACE
( Continued from page 33)
as planned gave considerably and by the time
we had crossed the chasm it just cleared the
ground with the loops in which we sat.
“There was an immediate close-up to regis-
ter relief on Mr. Duncan’s part and me al-
most overcome with fear and faintness. I did
not have to act. One of the camera men said
that I did a pretty piece of dramatic acting,
but he didn’t know, nor anybody else, that I
simply was being natural.
“Since those first days I have done many
‘stunts.’ I have dived off a bridge into the
water a distance of many more feet than
tw T enty. But 1 have never gotten over the first
momentary feeling of fear. On the other
hand, I have ridden my horse at a mad gallop
at full speed along a narrow path blasted into
the side of a mountain, with a yawning abyss
a few feet off. One misstep meant death, yet
I never felt the slightest qualm because it
was exciting. You can never really tell
though when you are going to be afraid. But
the life is a thrilling one and makes you ath-
letic and healthy. It is also wonderful to go
out on location in beautiful sections of the
country and camp for days. My mother loves
to go with me for really it is vacationing.”
“Are you glad to rest from serial work?”
I asked. I referred to special five-reel pro-
ductions which Mr. Duncan and Miss Johnson
have been doing lately.
“No — ,” she hesitated, “I don’t look at it
exactly that way. I shall always enjoy serial
work, but this is a change and an enjoyable
one. Mr. Duncan still keeps on supplying
thrills. In Where Men Are Men , he and
Sailor Tom Wilson fought. It -was awful the
way they cut each other up. Mr. Wilson end-
ed in the hospital with broken ribs and Mr.
Duncan had two black eyes and a mashed
thumb. I had to stand there through it all.
I would much rather have jumped off a cliff.
And then in Steelheart, Mr. Duncan fought a
bear. The creature scratched him consider-
ably and tore his riding suit to pieces. “Oh,
yes,” she laughed, “serials are not the only
exciting form of screen drama.”
A MONTH
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BILL DUNCAN’S EARLY TRAINING
FOR THE SCREEN
(Continued from page 23)
east or West in order to return to my home.
I actually was lost, and this, on top of my
various and numerous mishaps through the
day, caused me to feel quite panicky. When
the ebb tide of my feelings had been reached,
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returning with him. He agreed and invited
me to have some ice cream.
In Scotland we hadn’t been given much to
luxuries, and the only time that I had ever
tasted ice cream was in the form of “hokey
pokey,” served from a street wagon. So, upon
entering one of the gorgeous American ice
cream parlors, I was astounded when a fifteen-
cent dish of ice cream was placed before me.
It looked sufficient for a dozen people. I
struggled and eventually finished it, but am
sorry to state that I carried it as far as the
street only. By this time I was a forlorn-
looking object, still retaining, however, my
marvelous torch. We proceeded homeward.
Entering the flat quietly, I stepped into the
bathroom to deposit my torch, which I then
blew out and placed under the bathtub. Re-
turning to the dining room and mingling with
the rest of the family, various remarks were
made concerning my absence. An explana-
tion was asked relative to the huge bruise
upon my forehead. I do not recollect how
this was explained.
Sufficient to say that in a short while every-
one had settled down and I fell to thinking
of my. torch once more. I must have another
look at it. So, possessing myself of some
matches, I went to the bathroom and lit the
torch, turned out the light and sat on the edge
of the bathtub in blissful contemplation of it.
By this time practically all the oil had been
consumed and the torch was beginning to
smoke badly, no doubt casting a smudge odor
throughout the flat. I was just debating on
how I could secure a fresh supply of oil when
I heard my father approaching the bathroom.
I blew the torch out. My father opened
the door, looked in and remarked, “I thought
so. Come out of there.” I didn’t realize it
at the time, but the fact that the oil was all
gone put the wick in such a condition that
when I blew the light out a red, fiery end
glowed in the darkness. I couldn’t under-
stand what father wanted and hastily con-
cealed the torch under the bathtub and went
to him.
“Give me those cigarettes,” he demanded.
I couldn’t understand where he had gained
the impression that I was smoking and pro-
tested that I had no cigarettes. He insisted
that I had.
After quite a heated session, during which
my mother came in and wished to know the
particulars, my father told her that he had
seen the glowing end of a cigarette when he
opened the bathroom door.
Immediately it dawned upon me that it was
my torch. I proceeded to the bathroom and
returned with the torch, thus proving one of
the few real alibis of history. This resulted
in my almost getting another chastising be-
cause I might have set the house afire.
I went to bed that night sore both in body
and mind. But youth recuperates quickly and
in a few days I was figuring how long it
would be before the glorious Fourth would
roll around again. To that eventful day, my
first Fourth of July in America, I attribute
my interest in the science of explosives,, which
has proved of great value to me in my present
business. Also, I attribute to that day and to
my father’s efforts the fact that I never have
adopted the practice of smoking cigarettes.
I smoke cigars.
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F ilm play
PLAN YOUR OWN PICTURES!
Here's the opportunity the picture lover has needed to tell pro-
ducers the kind of moving pictures 'wanted and not wanted
THE FORUM — Filmplay’s New Department
Beginning in this issue — -See page 44
CONTEST
Not only do you have the opportunity to Plan 1 our
Own Pictures , but to make it more interesting we will
have a monthly contest beginning with the July issue
; on the theme, “IV hat Would You Do If You Had Mr,
Hays' Job?"
CONDITIONS
For the best article we will pay $5.00, for second $3. 00,
lor third $2.00, and others accepted and used $1.00 each.
Articles limited to 200 words. Write clearly on one side
ol the sheet. Unused articles returned only when ac-
companied by sell-addressed stamped envelope.
Subject for THE FORUM - -August Issue— “Things I Don't Like in Moving Pictures 99
Address, FORUM EDITOR FILM PLAY, 15 East 40th Street, New York City
THE SERIOUS SIDE OF THE
WOMEN OF THE SCREEN
' (Continued from page 36)
found emotionalism with love, that is be*
cause they have ne^ been laught to expect
physicid alt ruction, px attractions. And so,
when lliey /do jmcounler it, as they do, of
course, they Jjelieve it to be love, no matter
in j^om -iris first made, manifest to them.
Often a girl of seventeen will believe herself
in love with, marry, the first boy whose
adolescent kisj^ happens to thrill her. She
experiences a corresponding emotion, and sup-
poses it to be love! Surely a thrill is not love.
Love is a very different thing. It is more
of the tiling we feel, or should feel, for our
fellow-mien, for Humanity — a desire to help ;
kinship, sympathy, a profound, inalienable
friendship.
“If Youtli could weather those dangerous
years, marriage would become a more solid,
a more sincere, a more dignified state than it
is, as a whole, today.
“I believe in every woman having a profes-
sion, or having to have to work. I also be-
lieve in the economic independence of women.
I think that any condition tending to develop
the individual as an individual is for good.
I am- thoroughly an individualist, but I think
there is a wiser, more comprehensive and more
tolerant definition of individualism than the
one in common usage.
“Women are apt to stagnate. Housework
is never exhilarating at best, and any woman
chained to domestic routine is bound to dull,
to fade, if not physically, then mentally, which
is worse.
“But, after all is said and done, it seems
to me that too much stress is laid on the
‘new’ woman — as though a new race had been
born. The new woman is own sister to the
old woman. The woman of Today iS absolute
kin of the woman of Yesterday. The war, for
one thing, has simply helped her to loosen her
fetters; to try her own mettle; to realize her
own strength. She has always had this
strength; she simply has never used it before
quite in the same way. She has seen the
light, and she has proven her courage — for
she is not afraid to look at it.”
OUT OF THE WEST
(Continued from page 47)
Valentino won his first big success, has made
die film version of this novel also. For years
.Miss Mathis has been the mainstay of the
Metro studio, and it must seem odd to her
to be doing continuities for anyone else.
Another stage play which will shortly find
its way into pictures is the Fay Bainter play,
East Is West. Joseph Schenck has bought the
rights to the play for Constance Talmadge.
It is said that the picture will be made jointly
in California and China. But we have heard
that story before, and from past experience
with such statements we suppose that a
Chinese street behind the fence of some Hol-
lywood studio is about as close to the Orient
as the company will get..*
Cecil DeMille is back at the Lasky studio
after a hunt with falcons in North Africa,
which resulted in his catching a rotten attack
of inflammatory rheumatism. He will begin
Work shortly on a story by Miss Macpherson,
suggested by a novel by Alice Duer Miller.
Since the little huff which overtook Miss
Fanny Hurst because of what they did to her
Star Dust, the wary scenario writers have hit
upon the brilliant idea of having their
scenarios “suggested” by the novels they are
adapting. It*s a good idea.
Jackie Coogan is going to do a version of
Oliver Twist. Lasky did it several years ago
with Marie Doro as the wayward Oliver.
Jackie will be considerably less mature a pick-
pocket in training, but it will be interesting
to see what he can do with the role. That
excellent character actor, Lon Chaney, will act*
Fagin. If our memory serves, Theodore Rob-
erts played the part in the earlier production.
Marshall Neilan announces the completion
of his latest picture, which is to be called
Fools First. It has an important cast, includ-
ing Richard Dix, Claud Gillingwater, Claire
Windsor, Raymond Griffith and George Seig-
mann.
Mr. Dix seems to have forsaken Goldwyn
pictures for the moment. He will appear next
as one of the leading men in Betty Compson’s
latest picture.
Edna Purviance is shortly to appear as a
star on her own hook. No one deserves it more
than she. And from advance reports it looks as
if Mr. Chaplin were to be the impressario.
STATEMENT OF THE OWNERSHIP. MAN-
AGEMENT, CIRCULATION, ETC., RE-
QUIRED BY THE ACT. OF CON-
GRESS OF AUG. 24, T9 1 >
Of Filmplay Journal, published monthly at In-
dianapolis, Ind., for April 1, 1922.
State of Indiana )
County of Marion J ss * .
Before me, a notary public in and for the State
and county aforesaid, personally appealed Wm. J.
Dobyns, who, having- been duly sworn according
to law, deposes and says that he is the business
manager of the Filmplay Journal, and that the
following is, to the best of his knowledge and be-
lief, a true statement of the ownership, manage-
ment (and if a daily paper, the circulation ), etc.,
of the aforesaid publication for the date shown
in the above caption, required by the Act of Aug.
24. 1912, embodied in Section 443, Postal Laws
and Regulations, printed on the reverse of this
form, tb-wit:
1. That the names and addresses of the pub-
lisher, editor, managing editor, and business man-
agers are: Publisher, The Magazine Corporation,
Indianapolis, Ind. : Editor, Harold Harvey, New
York, N. Y. : Managing Editor, none ; Business
Manager, Wm. J. Dobyns, Indianapolis, Ind.
2. That the owners are:
Cornelius Printing Company
Geo. M. Cornelius, Indianapolis, Ind.
William .J. Dobyns, Indianapolis. Ind.
A. M. Cornelius, Indianapolis, Ind.
Geo. M. Cornelius. Indianapolis, Ind.
William J. Dobyns, Indianapolis, Ind.
Geo. H. Cornelius, Indianapolis, Ind.
3. That the known bondholders, mortgagees,
and other security holders owning or bolding 1
per cent or more of total amount of bonds, mort-
gages, or other securities, are : None.
4. That the two paragraphs next above, giv-
ing the names of the owners, stockholders, and
security holders, if any, contain not only the list
of stockholders and security holders as they ap-
pear upon the books of the company, but also,
in cases where the stockholder or security holder
appears upon the books of the company as trustee
or in any other fiduciary relation, the name of
the person or corporation for whom such. trustee
is acting, is given ; also that the said two para-
graphs contain statements embracing affiant’s full
knowledge and belief as to the circumstances and
conditions under which stockholders and security
holders who do not appear upon the books of the
company as trustees, bold stock and securities in
a capacity other than that of a bona fide owner :
and this affiant has no reason to believe that any
other person, association, or corporation has any
interest direct or indirect in the said stock, bonds,
or other securities than as so stated by him.
WILLIAM J. DOBYNS,
Business Manager.
Sworn to and subscribed before me this 31st
day of March, 1922.
[Seal] ANNA M. MORGAN,
Notary Public.
My commission expires Jan. 27, 1924.
f
Menu of Anniversary Number
July Filmplay
From “Soup to Nuts” — A Mental Banquet
for Every American Home
■ * -*v
IN COURSES
Served
or
A LA CARTE
Screen Stars
By Those Who Know Them Best
A study of the lovely star, Florence Vidor, writ-
ten by her husband and director, King Vidor.
Around the World
With the Movies
Janet Flanner’s breezy article on the picture
situation as it exists in Rome in Thumbs Down
on Roman Movies.
Fashions
As Mae Murray Sees Them
Timely suggestions on this world-old subject
and very popular with feminine readers.
Film Feminists
One of a Series
Gladys Hall’s fourth article on the serious-
minded women of the screen, in which Lillian
Gish tells her views.
Editorial
And Editor's Pages
Filmplay readers look forward with keen
interest each month to these pages. Timely
movie topics are carefully discussed.
A “ Cut-Back ”
On Douglas Fairbanks
Being the personal reminiscences of Virginia
Thatcher, “who knew him when ”
Ask Dad
He Knows
He is kept busy by his Filmplay friends and
has some very hard “nuts to crack,’’ but does so
with interest to all readers. Try him and see.
* •
East and West
■ $ f.
&
Studio Activities
Newsy, concise previews, telling of what is in
the making, news of favorite actors and
actresses, etc.
The Movie Crowd
Being a study of the audiences which pack the
picture theatres. You, perhaps, have studied
them yourself — you will enjoy this article.
Views About Previews
Filmplay endeavors each month to separate the
“sheep from the goats” in this department,
covering the more prominent releases — know
before you go.
EIGHT FULL PAGE PICTURES OF SCREEN FAVORITES
And Several Special Articles of Interest
Don’t Miss “The Forum 99 in which Filmplay’s Readers
Discuss Important Screen Problems
Filmplay —The Screen’s Distinctive Magazine
CORNELIUS PRINTING’COMPANY. INDIANAPOLIS
I
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